New Year, New ME!!!

So here it is, December 31, the LAST day of 2007, and I am ashamed to admit that although the year has been chock-full of blog-worthy events, I have been sorely lacking in the posting department. Which is why my New Years’ resolution is to change that. Yes, faithful few (and I am everlastingly grateful I still have a faithful few), in 2008 you will be privy to a brand new dasi. Well, not really brand new, but one who writes more often. And that includes (wait for it) TBOTE. Actually, as a subheading of the whole "writing more often" resolution, I would really like to complete the whole darn thing, or at least come close to it. And believe it or not, this all actually ties in with my OTHER resolution, which is to attempt to lose enough weight to once again be desirable to the opposite sex, and not just by men into BBWs. Or psycho South Siders. (HA!) This is because at my new, highly important Federal job, I have a full ONE HOUR LUNCH. And I figure instead of going the fast food route every day, I will spend that hour reading and writing blogs. So expect posts, and if they aren’t there, feel free to blast me for slacking on my resolution.

As far as the new job, it is going swimmingly. There is a lot to learn, but it doesn’t seem as difficult as I originally thought it would be. I can’t tell you anything about it, because it is all Top Secret, and I could be eliminated if I do. JUST KIDDING!! Actually, I am in the Financial Litigation Unit (or FLU), and basically I deal with criminal debtors who owe the government or private entities money for restitution or fines for whatever they did illegally. Really interesting, and you learn a lot about the human psyche when you read about what some of these people tried to get away with. A lot different that what I did with Satan, who, by the way, I have never heard from again. Thank goodness!!

My time off between jobs would have been a good time to post, but I basically spent it doing lunch with friends, napping, and catching up on all my tivo’d shows. Oh, and I think I DID clean the house once or twice in those six weeks. Lexie was getting pretty pissy with me, actually telling me I was lazy, to which I retorted "Hey, you get w WHOLE SUMMER every year to lay around and do nothing. Deal with it." And honestly? I think I deserved my six weeks of total sloth. I have been working since I was 15, pretty consistently. Hell, I even worked during the TBOTE years. So if I wanted to do nothing for six whole weeks, I do believe I earned it. It was kind of nice, but had it lasted any longer I think I would’ve started to lose it. It’s good to be back in the workplace again. And I need those paychecks, too.

I’m only working Saturdays and Sundays at RL now, since I still need the supplemental income and I still like working there. I can’t believe I have been there over a year already. Time really does fly! I haven’t been going out much with the RL crew, but a bunch of them came out for my birthday in November, and we had a blast. I think I am still recuperating from it, actually. Dasi has a hard time running with the Big Dawgs now. I have plenty of pictures, I’ll try to post some later. I would’ve been ok, but I went against all that is Holy and broke my rule about not doing shots. Come on, I couldn’t be rude, right? One of the best things about the night was that no one believed I was 39, and I felt pretty damn good about that. Even if they were lying to me, I didn’t care. It was MY night and it was lots of fun. I was invited to Chris’ NYE bash tonight, he tends to have all the holiday parties, but I think I’m going to pass. Amateur night, you know? Plus there’s this 12-year-old issue I have at home (lol). Seriously, he lives too far away to take a cab home from at a reasonable price, I don’t like crashing at other peoples’ houses (I need my own bed, unless, well... YOU KNOW!!), and even if I didn’t drink, I’d have to worry about all the other idjuts on the road who did. With my luck, I would be stone cold sober driving home and get plowed by a drunken fool three blocks from my house. And that would really suck, you know? So Lex and I are going to do the dinner and movie thing. I am taking her to see Juno so she knows I am a cool mom and so she doesn’t end up like either of the Spears morons. Then we will come home and play Wii all night long. (Yes, I stood outside of Best Buy for FIVE FREAKIN HOURS and froze my ASS off to get my precious angel her GD Wii. But I have to admit, that thing is AWESOME!! Especially Guitar Heroes. If only I could beat Slash...) I hope whatever you all do, you stay safe.

Finally, I am way far behind on reading everyone else’s blogs, but I plan to work on that as well. I am in the process of trying, and might I say, Alice, I commend you for putting up a tree at all, Lexie and I didn’t bother with Ginger and the cats, and OMG YOU ARE SO RIGHT, Bare Escentuals is AMAZING!! Cheryl, of course Joseph was in the bathroom, it’s not like these guys ever leave permanently (mild tone of sarcasm there...!), and Amber I am so glad things are going well with you, Chris and the girls. Everyone else, I AM READING!!! I will be commenting more too, so watch for me!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

Merry (Day After) Christmas!!

And by the way, I'm not dead. Although some people may have informed you I am. Just on sabbatical - six weeks of leisure wasted with no posts, and now I am at the new job and need to actually do work... go figure.

Basically, I am just a lazy bum and have no excuses for not writing. But, as I indicated, I am NOT dead.

In case anyone still cares.

Moving On - The Sequel

First off, thank you everyone for your warm wishes. It means a lot to me to have everyone's support. I was amazed at all the comments!! Anyway, now that you've read "Moving On" - hold on tight for the wild ride that continues from the end of that post...

I think I've always known the Serenity Prayer, but when I started the Program about 12 years ago, I started saying it every night before I went to sleep: God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Apparently for 6 1/2 years I didn't have the wisdom, but this is the story of how I found that wisdom and gained the courage to change the one thing in my life that should have been changed a long time ago.

After I gave my notice, things began to change with Satan. First off, that very day he came back from lunch and was all "So congratulations on the new job! Tell me all about it!" I was a little suspicious, and cautiously gave him some minimal details. I later commented to Nice Attorney that I thought Satan might be bipolar. "More like tri-polar," was his reply. So after this little convo, I am sitting at my desk working, when at about 4:30 Satan hands me a memo. "Here, just read this and if you have any comments, you can see me," he says, retreating to his lair.

Said memo went as follows:

10/25/07
dasi,

This will confirm that you gave me notice that you have accepted a new job and that 11/16/07 will be your last day working here.

You left the office early yesterday without approval from me. I again must emphasize, as I did earlier this year, that you should not leave the office early without my approval.

Finally, I will give you two 10-minute breaks each day (10:00-10:10 and 3:30-3:40). All personal matters should be handled during those breaks. During those breaks you shall continue to take calls from clients and prospective clients. These break times cannot be changed or extended without talking to me. During all other hours you should not be handling personal matters: internet usage, Hot-mail, e-mail, text messaging, phone calls, socializing, etc. The one exception is phone calls to or from your daughter which are allowed at any time.

WHAT??? I didn't know quite how to react. I mean, I was leaving in like TWO AND A HALF WEEKS. And not only did he AGAIN start with the whole "you walked off your job" bullshit, but now he decides to give me "two 10-minute breaks" which aren't even breaks since I can't leave my desk and still have to answer the phone. (On a side note, he said nothing about blogging, so I feel no remorse for doing so during working hours.) When he originally told me he was retiring, he told me we would probably be slow during October and November, and to feel free to bring a book or go online when I was caught up, and all of a sudden he makes it sound like he has to friggin' MONITOR me?? Ridiculous. But hey, only 2 1/2 more weeks, so I decided to suck it up and play along with his little memo.

Of course, NA laughed so hard I was sure he would cough up a lung, and couldn't believe Satan gave me said memo. Actually, there weren't many people who really thought his little memo was anything other than his last ditch effort to be an asshole. But whatever.

So I play along with his little break times on Thursday and Friday, then on Monday Lexie was sick. I stayed home with her like a good mom would, and returned to work on Tuesday. Satan was in pretty much the whole day, constantly looking over my shoulder and making sure I was working hard. Which I was. Honestly. I mean, I only had 12 more days to put up with him, and I had promised to try to make this a smooth transition. So I was trying to make sure everything was in order, and I was up to date on all the current files, and summarizing as many medical records on files as I could to get them ready for settlement. Then at 3:30, I had my official break.

Which was when everything suddenly took a drastic turn.

There I was, reading an e-mail from Lexie's principal which was basically sent out to update all the parents on what was going on at the school. I had read maybe the first sentence, when my phone rang. Now, normally when a person is on "break," they are not required to do things like answer the phones. But as you saw, Satan's idea of a "break" is a bit different than that of, say, an employer who actually follows labor laws... So I answered the phone. First problem was that the receptionist just dumped the call on me. Never told me who was calling or anything, which she is supposed to do. So I found myself speaking to a client's son who, to put it nicely, is somewhat of a pain in the you-know-what. He wanted to know when his mother's settlement check was going to arrive, so she could go to India. It took me the entire rest of my break to explain that I couldn't give him an exact date, that it was actually a complicated process with mailings to several people and signatures and approvals etc, and that if his mother needed to go to India before the check came in, I would highly recommend she speak to Satan about it first.

At which point Satan came storming out of his office and yelled at me to put PITA on hold, and basically blasted me for not just giving him the call in the first place. O-kay. Usually he never wants to talk to clients, but whatever. I transferred the call to him, and started to continue working on a summary I was in the middle of when the fateful call came through.

About ten minutes later, at 3:50, I realized I hadn't finished reading the e-mail, and clicked over to do so. And as Murphy's Law would have it, Satan walked out of his office at that very moment. Out of habit, I switched screens back to my summary, but he went off.

"WHAT WERE YOU JUST DOING?" he yelled.

With a sigh, I clicked back to the e-mail and explained that when PITA called, during my break, I had been in the middle of an e-mail from Lexie's prinicpal, and I had forgotten about it and wanted to finish it quickly now.

That led to a rant that of which I had never been forced to endure as an adult, and would never wish on anyone. He screamed at me that he knew this would happen, that he gave me the memo for a reason, that if I couldn't follow the rules I could just leave, because he wasn't going to pay me to not do my job. He demanded I get said memo, and read it again. Through gritted teeth, and the threat of angry tears, I informed him that I did not have the memo with me. So he promptly printed out another one, threw it on my desk, and said, "It says right there that you cannot change or extend your break time without my permission. And it also says that you are to continue to take client calls during your break, so do not try telling me this was because of a client call. This is your job, and if you can't do it right, you can just go now. I knew you would try to pull this. I simply cannot trust you. You go against my rules when I am here, who knows what is going on when I am not in the office. I won't have an employee who can't do her job. You have been doing nothing, you do everything but the job you were hired to do, and I won't have it. If you cannot follow my rules, then just leave." And he stormed back into his office.

Ok. Six and a half years. You all know how much I have put up with in those loooong years, but all that was nothing compared to this. NA came out of his office, shook his head, and apologized to me. Said no one should be treated like that. But it wasn't his fault, I told him. Although I was feeling fairly certain that if I stayed, the next 12 days would just be more of the same. And I couldn't take it.

I worked out the rest of the day, then the next day I forced myself back into Hell. Thankfully, Satan wasn't in when I arrived. I sat at my desk, looking around, and started thinking about my alternatives. And that's when I realized I was done. I couldn't take one more millisecond of his bullshit. I had tried to do the right thing, offered to bust my ass to get as much in order as I could so he could retire peacefully, offered to explain all the files to his wife so she wouldn't be lost when I left... and he has the audacity to yell at me like I was a small, misbehaving child. Finito.

I felt a surge of adrenaline as I started taking down all my pictures and notes from my bulletin board, put away all my framed pictures, deleted or transferred any personal files I had on the computer... then came the fun part. It was time for me to write my own damn memo. Which went as follows:

10/31/07
To: Satan
From: dasi

On 10/25/07, I gave you noice that I would be terminating my employment on 11/16/07. Yesterday, you indicated that I should leave my position immediately as you felt I was not performing up to your standards. Therefore, pursuant to your request, I will no longer continue my employment as of today's date.

However, as I had planned on working through 11/16/07 and you told me to vacate my post early, I expect compensation through 11/16/07. Please mail my paychecks and all 401K information directly to my home address.

It has been a pleasure working for you, and I wish you continued success in the future.

I printed out the memo, set it on his desk along with my set of office keys, and walked out without even a second glance. And when I got home, all the information for my security clearance from the US Attorney's office was waiting in my mailbox. And? They only need information on you going back 7 years. So any of my past is irrelevant to them, since I have no arrests on record. And I went in the following day for my fingerprinting and to drop off the signature pages, and hopefully within the next few weeks will be starting my new job. I absolutely cannot wait.

As for Satan, he left me a message on my voice mail at home, stating that he did not actually fire me, and he would not pay me through the 16th as I had requested (yeah, I kinda figured that, but my dad told me I should try!). And then? He said that he would be willing to overlook the fact that I walked off my job for the second time as long as I was back in the office the next morning at 8:30 to finish out my last two weeks. Yep, you heard right - he expected me to come back. And wait - it gets even funnier - he told me to call him at 847-555-5555 so he could alert the girls at the front desk to let me in. HE GAVE ME THE PHONE NUMBER OF THE PLACE I HAD WORKED AT FOR SIX AND A HALF YEARS LIKE I WOULDN'T HAVE KNOWN IT. Unbelieveable.

His phone call actually made me feel much better about leaving. What an ass. And everyone I talked to about it was so happy for me, especially Nice Attorney. He called me later that day and told me that Satan had told him I left, but had said "I don't know what she was thinking, she can't afford to give up two weeks' pay." Like I needed him since I was a single mom. Guess what? I can manage, asshole. I'm picking up extra shifts at RL for the time being, and my favorite old boss Leo has me doing some extra work for him as well. It may be tight for this month, but I can manage. And there is no amount of money that is worth being treated like an emotional punching bag.

Finally, two days later, on Friday afternoon, I received a certified letter from Satan. This time, he put in writing all my hideous offenses (mostly bullshit, but whatever, let him vent), then ended the letter by saying that he was willing to overlook all said offenses as long as I was back in the office Monday, November 5 at 8:30 am. And I quote, " I look forward to hearing from you."

HA!!! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!! I almost peed myself laughing at that letter. And he won't ever be hearing from me again, thank you very much. My sources on his floor in the office building tell me he is scrambling like the rat he is trying to figure out how to do my job and finish all the crap he needs to do by his scheduled move out day of November 30. Again - more gleeful laughter on my part. The thing that kills me is that he totally brought this whole thing on himself. His damn supersized ego had him convinced that I would never have the guts to walk out on him, and that he could pretty much treat me any way he liked. Sucks to be wrong, doesn't it, Satan?

And come to think of it, it also sucks to be YOU.

Moving On

I gave my notice today. Did you hear that??? I GAVE MY NOTICE TODAY!!!!! And it was sooooo sweet. I got the job at the US Attorney's office, just found out for sure yesterday otherwise I would've mentioned it sooner. Of course, I still need to undergo security clearance, which takes about FIVE WEEKS, but I'm really not too concerned about that. I mean, I was, but after doing a little research on the whole security clearance thing I found out that my somewhat cloudy history can be dismissed due to mitigating factors: i.e. no drug use in 12 years, good personal and professional references, no arrests, et al. So although a few butterflies my linger in my stomach, I feel pretty confident all will go well.

Then today came the moment I have been dreaming about for SIX AND A HALF YEARS. Actually, it didn't go quite as I had planned. I was going to wait for his wife to come in and tell them together, since it affects her, too, but then he called me into his office. To bitch at me. To tell me that since I "walked off the job" yesterday, I was lucky I didn't get terminated (I was supposed to pick up Lexie from a walkathon yesterday, so I waited for her to call me. I planned on using my whole 30 minute lunch to pick her up and bring her home. Unfortunately, as tweens are apt to do, she changed her plans and called me at 3:45 to say she would just walk home. So since I had not taken a lunch, I left 15 minutes early - thereby actually shorting myself 15 minutes of lunch yesterday. And? Satan left me a voice mail at 4:50 - dasi. It's Satan. Call me as soon as you get this. Then, he called Nice Attorney at 4:59 and asked if I was there. Nice Attorney told me about this this morning, and said when he told him no, Satan replied, "Ok, I just wanted physical evidence." WTF? CSI Schaumburg???? Sorry - this backstory is way long.). Anyway, he was going on and on about how this is a trust issue, and he can't trust me, and how dare I just WALK off the job, and I need to actually do my work instead of slacking off so much (ok, who does he think is calling all the clients and ordering records and summarizing said records and following up on files? Friggin ELVES???) and on and on and on...

This whole time, there is a repeating track playing in my head that went something like this: "You are an asshole. I really hate you. Soon I will never see you again. Soon. SOON. But not now. You need money, dasi. Don't quit NOW. You are an asshole..."

So when he finally finished, I looked him square in the eye and said (this is the good part), "Satan, I am really sorry you feel this way. After 6 1/2 years, I feel I have been nothing but trustworthy, and I didn't mean to upset you by using my lunch at that time. I didn't feel it was that big of an issue. But apparently you do, and for that I am sorry. And I also feel that I have done a damn good job since I have been here, and I plan on continuing to do so until the end to make this transition easy on both of us. I am not the type of person to do things halfway or leave things undone, and I will do my best to continue working hard until the end. I was planning on telling you and Mrs. Satan together, since this affects her as well, but I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you that the US Attorney's office offered me a job, I have accepted, and my last day will be on November 16. And that I will not be in the office on November 1 since I have to complete paperwork and give fingerprints for the background check (Which isn't really true, I have a party on Halloween and don't wanna work on the 1st. But like I need to tell him that). But like I said, I will do everything in my power to make this a smooth transition and I don't want to end 6 1/2 years on a bad note."

I'm pretty sure he was caught WAY off guard, because he wouldn't even look at me. He actually said, "Thank you, I appreciate that." WHOA!!!!

And with that, I got up, left his office, and continued to work on the file I had been in the middle of. Sweet. It felt good. REALLY good. Because know what? As much as I'd love to, I won't screw him over. I am a bigger person than that, and I plan on proving it to him. I'll do everything I can to wrap up as many files as I can, within reason, of course. And when I leave, I'll have the satisfaction of knowing that despite having Satan as a boss, I did a job to be proud of for SIX AND A HALF YEARS.

Which means I'd best get back to work now. Tee hee.

What's In A Name?

Satan had someone come in today to explain our computer system to him. Probably because he has no clue about anything technical, and when he leaves and has to disable the system and set it up at home, he wants to do it right. So he walks this woman into the office, and says “This is dasi… um… Smith? Smythe? No, Smith, right?”

“Smith,” I replied with a saccharine smile.

“I guess since I just call you dasi all the time…” he explained lamely.

Yes, but I have worked for you for SIX AND A HALF FRIGGIN YEARS. And you have been SIGNING MY DAMN CHECKS EVERY OTHER WEEK FOR ALL THAT TIME.

Un-friggin-believeable. In a three person office. I should be insulted, right? I mean – he doesn’t even know my NAME.

Then again, maybe this is a good thing. I’m not sure if I want him to remember my name when I leave, after all…

Sheesh.

Fun At Weddings

First off, may I say that I am doing my darndest to catch up on everyone’s blogs. I am going alphabetically, and since I have been away for a while, it may take some time, but I vow to get caught up on EVERYONE’S. And that includes certain bloggers who initially quit blogging then started again (without ever telling me – you know who you are!!) who although I am VERY glad to see back in cyberspace have significantly added to my reading list. Sheesh – this is going to take a while!! But seriously? I am really enjoying it too. I miss all you guys and still can’t figure out how (or why) I allowed myself to stop reading for so long.

Anyhoo.

I’ve decided to post more entertaining (I hope) things today. Nothing too deep, just funny. So read on.

Cute Neighbor is getting married in two weeks. And his fiancée is really great. Obviously, since Cute Neighbor has been my neighbor since I moved in 6 ½ years ago, we have been neighborly friends for a while. And when CNF moved in with him, she and I got along well too. So I got invited to the wedding, natch.

I also got invited to the Bachelorette Party. Which was last weekend. And which I so did NOT go to. Allow me to explain why.

Although I love CNF to death, her friends didn’t quite rub me the right way. See, I went to her shower a couple weeks ago, and sat at the table with “The Bad Girls.” Yes, this is what they called themselves. Five women in their 40’s with husbands and kids, introducing themselves as “The Bad Girls.” But you know what? I can deal with that. Maybe they were just being silly. Maybe they had too much punch. They were very much designer label-wearing, designer purse-toting, mature women, not the type to be giggling about being “bad girls,” if you know what I mean. So I figured, hey, maybe they are really cool and not the obnoxious stuck-up women they were coming off as. So I sat quietly and listened to their conversation. Below are pretty accurate transcripts of sound-bites from said conversations:

“So, MY dermatologist says botox only works on PART of your face”

“Really? Mine worked well – I don’t think I need anything else”

“I won’t EVER take a picture without my hands in front of my neck – I need to get that taken care of.”

“So is Wayne meeting us at the airport or flying out later?” (Apparently the “Bad Girls” take bimonthly weekend trips to Vegas with their husbands)

“Who’s taking the kids? Your mother or mother-in-law?”

“Know what would be funny? If we all wore our OLD wedding dresses to CNF’s wedding! Ha! Ha! Ha!”

“Yes, but which dress should I wear? The first or the second?”

“Who threw up the most at the bachelorette parties?”

“That would have to be Foofie (not her real name) at Sookie’s bachelorette!”

“Oh, that’s right! Ha! Ha! Ha!”

“So I’ve already spent, like $500 on Junior and have to pay $1500 more JUST TO START… apparently the ridiculous laws have changed again.”

“Really? Well, I’VE paid over $8500 for Biff, only the BEST lawyer for MY son.”

(Apparently Junior and Biff, both like 17, had minor DUI incidents involving trashing their sportscars.)

“You know, if it were anyone ELSE’S son, I would say he deserves it, but since it’s MY son, I plan on doing whatever it takes to get him driving again and his records cleared.”

“AMEN to that!”

Ok, are you puking yet?? Like Foofie at Sookie’s party? Cause I was ready to! These women were SO not my idea of fun. They were actually driving me slowly insane. And of course, one was a real estate agent who had to discuss her sales and commissions and the market in general. Why is there always a real estate agent in groups of obnoxious women? I mean, nothing against real estate agents, I’m sure there are plenty of normal ones out there – but honestly? Every snooty women’s clique has one.

Obviously I managed to sneak out of the shower early, and THAT was why I had no intention of going to the bachelorette party. Now my only issue was the wedding itself.

The invitation clearly stated “Adult Reception,” so bringing Lexie was out. And since the only people I would know at the wedding (besides the Bad Girls) were the bride and groom, I knew I had to find a date – and pronto. Preferably someone to flaunt to the BG’s as someone suave… someone chic… someone who was NOT their boring businessman husbands…
This is where RL comes in handy. I joked around about putting up a sign like servers usually do, only instead of the sign saying “Can someone please pick up my Sat PM shift?” it would say “Who wants to go to a wedding with dasi?” To my surprise, whilst joking around, one of the servers said, “I’ll go with you.”

Ok – to clarify? One of the TWENTY-FIVE year old HOT METROSEXUAL CLEAN CUT TALL servers said, “I’ll go with you.”

Unfortunately, not SC, but DH was perfect for my plan. And I told him so.

DH has a girlfriend, but he is a really nice guy and we get along well. I explained about the BG’s to him, and that basically, his role was to be my Boy Toy and hang on me all night. I made it very clear I was totally using him, and that I hoped his girlfriend wouldn’t kick my ass for taking him, but he was simply part of the façade I planned on creating.

He insisted she would be cool with it, and I was thrilled. When I told my cousin about my date for the wedding, she scolded me for planning to lie. Apparently, she thought it was not cool to tell them he was my “Boy Toy,” because when (or if) I got found out, it would look bad. Hence, she came up with a better plan. Sometime during the reception, lean over by the BG’s and say in a confidential tone, “So… do you remember what it was like having sex with a 25 year-old?” and smile knowingly. That way, I wasn’t SAYING I was having sex with him, but if that’s what THEY thought, so be it. My cuz guaranteed they would suddenly swivel their heads between their husbands and DH and not feel so high-and-mighty after all. I loved it.

And DH thinks it’s pretty funny too. So that is our plan. Now I just have to hope I have an appropriate dress somewhere in my closet…

The Most Awesomest People!

You know what I like most about blogging? YOU!! Yes, all of you. Because even when I am a bad, bad blogger, when I do finally decide to post, and make it a mini-pity-party to boot, I get wonderful comments from cyber pals who I was SURE had given up on me. And I can’t even begin to tell you all how much that means to me.

Thank you. Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou.

It amazes me that some of you are still checking on me. I feel kind of like the red-headed stepchild that shouldn’t belong, but somehow still does. Anyway, like I said, I appreciate it. And all the advice and support. ESPECIALLY the advice and support!

Yesterday I actually went on a second interview with (get this) the US Attorney’s office. Although the pay would be a bit less, working for the Feds would be the best thing in the world for a single mom to whom benefits are mucho importante. And can we say “job security?” Who would’ve thought the girl from TBOTE could wind up working for the government? In an office down the hall from the DEA, no less (which I must admit, I find a bit amusing). So everyone keep your fingers crossed for me, I mean, I think it went well… Ok, in all honesty, I feel like I NAILED it, but I am afraid to get overconfident. All I know for sure that the waiting game may just kill me.

But even if that doesn’t pan out, I know I’ll be ok. Besides, let’s look on the bright side, shall we? Only 30 more days (at the MOST) of working with Satan. Unbelievable.

Finally, to those of you in Colorado… I am a big enough person to admit that your Rockies totally deserve to win the whole shebang. Since the Cubs seemed to have forgotten how to play the game in October, I have no alternative than to cheer for the (second) most amazing team in baseball. (The first still being my Cubs, I am a glutton for punishment and a true Chicago gal who bleeds Cubbie blue.)

Writing does seem to be helping my psyche, so I plan on trying to keep you updated on funny and interesting things as well as my daily doldrums. And I am working my way through TBOTE – I can almost feel more chapters bubbling to the forefront!

Strange Dreams

I have been dreaming about Kevin a lot lately. Maybe it is a sign to get my ass in gear on TBOTE. But even if it is, it is kind of bothering me. I mean, the guy has been out of my life for over a decade now – so why does he keep popping up in my head? And? I’m finding myself thinking about him a lot during waking hours too because of these dreams. Like I’m remembering something funny he did or said, or a place we went to together, or whatever. And right now a song is on the radio that reminds me of him.

Know what? I miss him.

And before you get all freaked out – I don’t miss him in a “God, I have to find him” way, I miss parts of my life when he was there. Only parts, though. If you are a regular reader, you know there are plenty I could do without. But for better or worse, he was the one guy I spent the most time in a real relationship with – the guy I was sure I would wind up marrying. And probably with all of the turmoil in my life right now, my subconscious mind is bringing me back to the person who was actually (in a weird sick kind of way) a constant in my life, and someone who took care of me. Now? ME takes care of me. And I take care of my daughter. And the cats. And goofy Ginger, the teenaged pup-pup. And I like being a responsible adult, but it is really scary too.

Satan retires in a month and a half – and although I have sent out resumes and went on interviews and contacted headhunters, I am still coming up empty handed. I guess since jobs always kind of fell into my lap, I really didn’t expect it to be this difficult. But it really is. And I get a knot in my stomach when I realize that I have a mortgage, a second mortgage, a car payment, insurance payments, utilities, credit card bills, Lexie’s school loan… one thing I know for sure – even working double time at RL will NOT pay all those – I need a real nine-to-five. And hell if I can’t FIND one.

Funny how I would’ve killed to be free of Satan, and now I wish he would reconsider retirement. Don’t get me wrong, I still hate him – you don’t just suddenly stop being an asshole – but he does pay well and heck, a job is a job. Especially when the alternative is living in a refrigerator box. And I don’t even know anyone who has gotten a new refrigerator lately. Plus, I am pretty sure all of us wouldn’t fit. And Lexie (now that she is in JUNIOR HIGH) would demand her own box, anyway. So I would need two. At least. Crap.

So yes, I am under a bit of stress. And Kevin used to make me laugh. And he would hold me. And oddly enough, he made me feel safe. I haven’t found another guy like that since then. Mr. South Side made me feel very UNsafe - being stalked does that to you. And the few other guys I dated just weren’t right. Now is probably the absolute WORST time to decide I am lonely and want someone in my life – what with all the upheaval – but I really am. It would be really nice to not have everything on MY shoulders, and to have someone to cry to who would tell me it would all be ok. That I would be safe, and I wouldn’t lose my home, or my car, or everything I have worked so hard for in one fell swoop. It would be nice for someone to make me laugh and support me when I need it most (like now??). But realistically I know that won’t be happening any time soon. Hence my nighttime visits from Kevin. Which I kind of enjoy – since they are really pretty nice dreams. Even though real life Kevin is probably a half-dead junkie living with some bimbo in a heroin den by now. GOD I am so mean and pessimistic!! Ok, I’ll give the guy the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he finally cleaned up and is living happily with a wonderful girl and a great job. But more than likely not. As big a heart as he had, and as much as he always meant well, the drugs just had a stronger hold on him and although I PRAY he was able to clean up, I really doubt it. Sigh.

Anyway, it may interest you to know that I have take out my printed copy of TBOTE and plan on reading it over the next few days to try to get back into it. Since I keep dreaming of Kevin and all. Writing more may help relieve the stress too. And maybe if I finish in the next few weeks (yeah, right) I will magically be “discovered” and offered a brazillian dollars for my novel and not have to worry about finding a new job after all.

God, I crack myself up!

Ummmmm....

Yeah so... hi. Notice I removed the last post - that is because there just MAY be people surfing the net that I do NOT want reading that. Not SC himself, per se, but - well, I prefer to keep my reputation intact. Not that I have a reputation - at least not anymore. I used to. Back in the fun days. HA!

Anyway. Life has been just so darn exciting I haven't had time to blog. Ok, that is an outright lie. Life is not exciting, it is mundane, but it sure as heck is BUSY. And adding a daughter who just started junior high to the mix makes things that much more frustrating. I think an evil spirit has taken over my sweet daughter's body. But what can you do? Guess I just have to ride it out.

I just read in the Tribune that some housewife got her blogs noticed by posting little stories on e-bay (I'm not too sure how that whole thing started, I got too po'd to read the full article, but if you want to, it is here) and now has offers from Nickelodeon, film producers, and a bunch of literary agents. Just by writing cute little humorous anecdotes about life. HELLO?? What does a gal have to do to get NOTICED around here??

Oh... yeah... maybe post a bit more often. And maybe actually write another chapter of TBOTE. But still. I'm kind of like that blonde in the lottery joke -

A blonde realizes she is going to be laid off from her job in the near future and starts panicking about money. "Please, God," she prays, "let me win the lottery. I am a good person, and I REALLY need the money!"

The next day she wakes up only to realize she didn't win. So she prays harder.

"Please, God! I can't afford my car payment and I might have my car repossessed! PLEASE let me win the lottery!"

And she still didn't win.

Finally, things are REALLY bad, and she falls to her knees, with tears streaming down her face.

"PLEASE GOD!!" she begs. "My mortgage is due and I have no money and I may wind up on the streets! PLEASE let me win the lottery!!"

Suddenly lightning flashes and a booming voice says with exasperation, "Help me out here - BUY A TICKET!"

HA HA HA!!! I guess I need to "buy my ticket" as well. On that note, I am going to pretend to work some more, and try to sweep the cobwebs out of the creativity section of my brain and maybe post more often. Keep your fingers crossed.

The Supernanny - For Dogs

Ginger had her very first puppy class last night. (By the way - 18.2 pounds now. And still growing.) She was very excited to walk into the local Petsmart with Lexie and me, and went nuts when she saw all of her classmates. We tried to reel her in, but were admonished by her instructor, who told us, "Let them play! We don't keep children away from each other in school, do we?" So she happily sniffed and jumped on and licked her new pals.

And the instructor was amazing. Lexie commented, "She's just like the Supernanny, mom, but for dogs!" She really was. Gracie is a large woman, not in a fat way, but in a German fraulein way, if you know what I mean. And she has a British accent. She's definitely not the kind of person you would ever want to be on the bad side of. She stressed that her main concern is the dogs, and that we, as humans, were secondary. That if we worked together, we would have perfectly mannered pooches who would soon become productive members of society. And I believe her. Actually, I'm too intimidated not to believe her. I only hope Lexie stays on her good side...

Anyway, there are seven total dogs in Ginger's class. Since it would've been very rude to snap pictures of them during class, I searched the net for acceptable representations. And I did a pretty good job, if I do say so myself. All the pictures are really close to what the actual pups look like. So, here are Ginger's new classmates:

First we'll start with the three dogs whose names escape me. A boston terrier, a wheaten terrier, and a schnoodle (I think - at least this schnoodle looks like the dog in her class).
Then there was Nala, the precocious boxer who learned to "hush" before the rest of the class learned, since she had a proclivity for barking:
And Nunu, who was going through class for the second time (but Ginger really loved Nunu anyway...I have a feeling she's going to be a bad influence on my baby...!): And finally, there was Walter. By far, my favorite of her classmates. Walter didn't quite seem to fit in with the rest of the group... maybe because he was barely ten weeks old... but Gracie said he would be the leader of the class in a couple weeks. I don't know, what do you think? Walter is a papillon/maltese mix and weighs about a pound, if that much. He was really scared around all the bigger dogs, and really didn't want to walk into the classroom. So his owners sort of pulled him on his leash, making him look kind of like a little dustmop. You couldn't help but laugh.

Lexie and I listened raptly as Gracie told us all that it was important to exercise your dog before class so that they would be tired enough to pay attention and learn, but not too tired. "Especially you!" she said sharply, pointing at our Ginger. Lexie and I laughed uncomfortably and shrank a bit on our stools while Ginger continued to prance around as far as her leash would allow. Then Gracie called Ginger and gave her hugs and kisses. So I guess Ginger was forgiven for her rambunctiousness.

At one point in the class, Gracie asked us if any of the pups were fixed yet. Negatives all around. She then asked how many males were in the class. We all looked around in curiosity to see the lone hand in the air - Walter's owner. Amid the laughter, Gracie shook her head. "I'm not sure Walter even knows he's a boy yet," she commented, "and no offense, but I'm thinking it would be physically impossible for him to do anything with any of these ladies anyway." Poor Walter. "Although Lord knows, stranger things have happened," she added with a grin.

All in all, I think all three of us enjoyed the class thoroughly. I just hope that Ginger earns enough points to graduate. I would be mortified if my pup-pup flunked out. I'll keep you posted on all things doggie, I promise.

Scary

So what I think is that if I am to continue to be honest with myself, and to stay mentally healthy, I need to write. And I need to write the not-so-great things, too, because pretending that everything is hunky-dory is a really bad thing to do, especially when you have a past like mine. And yet, I do tend to do that way more than I should. Well, I either put on a happy face or just drop out of sight entirely. And neither is a good thing. For me, at least.

As you saw yesterday, I am a tiny bit overextended lately. And tired. After working all day with Satan, I went in for another RL shift, which kept me running my ass off until almost 10:30 p.m. Soooo... start the day job at 8:30, leave RL at 10:30 - you do the math. Yes, kiddies, 14 hours of work, then it's back home, shower, go to bed and back up at 6 a.m. to do the whole thing all over again today. Last night I was a bit more on edge than usual. Lexie called at like 9:30 to inform me that the toilet was about to overflow, the cat just puked, and "when are you coming home??" And I still had two tables sitting, and I still had sidework to do, and I was tired, and crabby, and depressed, and I really wanted to just cry. I started wondering if it all was worth it, you know? I mean, here I was, busting my ass, while my daughter sits home all day by herself. What kind of mother am I, anyway? Do I really need the extra money? Well, the short answer is 'yes,' but I started trying to figure out how I would manage if I did quit. And the bottom line is, I probably would, but I would never get out of debt or get that new car or be able to actually have a savings account.

So I'm sitting in one of the booths, doing some sidework and waiting for my tables to leave and worrying about Lexie, when Dani asks if I would like to join some of the other servers for a drink after work. And I really wanted to say, "Definitely! I'm there!" but instead I shake my head and smile. Because I am a responsible person now, and I have a daughter who needs me, and a cat who puked, and a toilet on the verge of overflowing, and I have to save my money and get up at 6:00 am to work for Satan. But my brain is still going 100 mph since I am now exhausted and crabby and depressed, and it wasn't until I finally left the restaurant and got in the car that it happened.

I'm guessing it was a combination of my mental state and watching "Intervention" the night before and the fact that the song playing on my radio was seducing me with its mellow lyrics:
Hello? Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me...
Is there anyone at home?
Come on, come on now,
I hear you're feeling down.
Well, I can ease your pain
Get you on your feet again.
Relax -
I need some information first.
Just the basic facts -
Can you show me where it hurts?
There is no pain, you are receding...
A distant ship, smoke on the horizon...
You are only coming through in waves...
Your lips move, but I can't hear what you're saying...
When I was a child, I had a fever,
My hands felt just like two ballons.
Now I've got that feeling once again -
I can't explain, you would not understand -
This is not how I am...
I have become comfortably numb.

I wanted to get high.

I wanted to go back to Kenny's apartment with the balcony door open and the summer breeze blowing the curtains towards us as we partied. I wanted to let Kevin fill my pipe and light it for me and inhale the smoke and let it take me away to where I was comfortably numb. Back to before the paranoia, before the end stages of addiction - when I had no job, no daughter, no responsibilities except for making sure the test tube was dry enough to cook up a new batch of crack.

When I could've cared less how late it was, because the days and nights all bled together, anyway, and you slept when you felt like it. When collection agencies made me laugh, because they couldn't get blood from a stone. When nothing mattered - nothing - except for that feeling you got when the drugs took over your body and soul...

For the first time in I can't even remember how long, I actually felt the physical nausea I used to feel before I partied. My head had that buzzing sensation and I could feel myself starting to grind my teeth. I closed my eyes at the stoplight before my complex, and took a deep breath. when the light turned green, I continued on my drive with my stomach churning and pulled into my driveway a few short minutes later.

I turned off the car and the music stopped. And I felt like I wanted to cry. Because I had never had a jones like this since the previous millennium. And it scared me.

And I walked into my house, and I saw Lexie's smile, and Ginger was practically falling over from the force of her tail-wagging, and it all stopped. Because all the stress, all the responsibility, all the hard work... this was what it had accomplished for me. My own home, my wonderful daughter, my psycho pets, everyone who loved me and who I loved back. Trust, and the knowledge that I am a good person. The ability to take care of not only myself, but a child and my menagerie. The security of having money in the bank, and not having to depend on anyone else for that. The strength to have those feelings, and to overcome them instead of giving in to the old temptations.

Because it is so not worth it. I may be going through some tough times, but I need to keep my focus on the most important things in my life. I don't ever want to lose them, especially not for 'one more hit.' Which I am too smart to think would end with 'just one hit.' I refuse to go down that road again - ever.

And I think writing all this down and having some cyber-support really helps, too. So thank you all for being here, listening, and not judging. I promise when those feelings resurface, as I'm sure they probably will, I'll keep my focus and write it out again. Things may suck at times, but at least I know they'll always get better.

Gee, I Almost Even Forgot to Put a Title...!

You know, I just read Amber's newest post - one that has apparently been a long time in the making. And I can totally relate to how she feels. On a different level, of course. But she made me think a lot about myself and my blogging (or lack thereof, as the case may be). I miss it too. But for whatever reason, it just seems so damn difficult now. Just like TBOTE. It's all "up here," but for whatever reason, it just never makes it to print. I know I have let down a lot of people with that, too, because the story is just kind of hanging, and I feel really bad. But it just isn't happening now.

And I look back at my early blogs and I smile and laugh and when I do get around to reading all MY favorite bloggers, I realize how much I miss them too. What happened? There was a time when I made a point of reading everyone on my blogroll first thing in the am, when I couldn't WAIT for Satan to take a day off or leave early or even just take a long phone call so I could blog myself and comment as much as I wanted. Now, I think "eh," and forget about it.

Which makes me sad, because then I think about how I have probably lost most of my cyber-buddies because I myself have become such a god-awful cyber-buddy. THEN, I post one new blog and see comments from the likes of Amber, and Alice, and Rick, and Cheryl and I get all sentimental and think "they're still THERE! They DO still like me!" Which makes me feel like I am a total sap and am probably losing my mind as well. You know, since I feel like crying over comments on my blog.

Anyway, as far as losing myself, I also feel dangerously close to doing so. Because having two jobs, and a daughter, and two cats, and a puppy makes me forget about the little things - like how important it is to do things for ME every once in a while. And how Lexie is being so damn supportive and understanding when I come home EXHAUSTED and go to bed at like 7:30 pm (like I did last night) or when I am crabby and snap at her for no reason - she really deserves more of my time and I need to make a point of letting her know how much I appreciate her... and how I really shouldn't feel guilty if I want to use my ONE day off to just relax with my daughter instead of doing whatever it is whoever wants or expects me to do.

I feel like I have been shutting out a lot of people, both in cyberspace and in the "real world," and believe me, it is not intentional. I love all the people in my life so much and it makes me feel bad knowing that I've been doing that, on purpose or not. But at this juncture in my life, I can't afford to give up either job - especially when my job with Satan is ending in November and I have no prospects on the horizon. I need to keep moving forward and keep doing what I have to do, but I also need to slow it down a bit. I'm not quite sure how I am going to do that yet, but I'm going to try...!

Know what? I'm not even sure any of this entry made sense, but I think I'll post it anyway. I thank all of you who continue to check on me and comment, and hopefully you'll continue to bear with me. Maybe someday I'll start making more sense, and maybe someday I'll be struck by inspiration and get another chapter cranked out, who knows? In the meantime, I need to just focus on taking things one day at a time...

Make My Day

There are times when my daughter cracks me up. Often, these times are when she isn't trying to be funny. Which makes me laugh even more. I know as a supportive parent, I should try to keep my laughter in check a times, but the other day it was impossible. And honestly? I needed a good laugh. So her golf conversation really made my day.

Yes, her "golf conversation."

You see, a few months ago my father called Lexie up. "I've signed you up for golf lessons," he informed her. "You start on June 11 at the driving range right behind the house."

"Ummmmmm..." (that would be Lexie.)

"Now don't worry, I'm going to get you a set of used clubs. They won't be the best, of course, but as you improve maybe I'll get you a better set."

"Ummmmmm..."

"So I'll bring those by when I get them, and I'll drop off the information on the lessons, too. All right, talk to you later!"

Now, Lexie isn't a golfer. As a matter of fact, I seem to recall the first time we took her miniature golfing when she was like four. She grabbed the club like a baseball bat and almost took out me and her grandpa. But apparently since his grandson is only 16 months old, he decided that Lexie would be his golf protege. And didn't really give her the opportunity to say no.

Sine I have raised my daughter well, she sucked it up and acted excited for her grandpa's sake. But she told anyone who would listen, "I really don't want to play golf, but since grandpa wants me to so bad..."

In any case, as the day drew near, my dad got more and more excited, and Lexie got more and more apprehensive. Finally, the day arrived. I left for work, and told her I would call her at 9:10 to make sure she was leaving. When I called, she actually sounded a little excited. Maybe this golf thing isn't such a bad idea, I thought to myself. I mean, I've never golfed in my life, but Lord knows it's a good networking tool and hell, maybe she's got a little Tiger in her, who knows, right?

So I'm sitting at work, watching the clock, and at about 10:10 my phone rings. It was my little golf pro - but wait - what's this? She sounded all out of breath...

"Whoever said golf was EASY and RELAXING is a LIAR!" she spat into the phone.

There. That is exactly where my giggles started. But I tried to keep them in check as I responded sweetly, "Why, baby? How was it? Did you have fun?"

What came next was a tirade that left me gasping for breath with tears in my eyes.

"WELL," she began, "it is hard. And these clubs are heavy! And every time the instructor came by, I would miss the ball. And he would tell me to FOCUS. And I WAS FOCUSING!! And a third grader hit the ball 175 feet, and the farthest I hit the ball was 95 feet. And I think I burned off 20 million calories, AND I am sweating off ALL of my sunscreen!" her tween indignation burned through the phone line.

I tried to regain my composure and tell her, "Well, honey, it was your first lesson. I'm sure you'll get better."

"It's not funny," she said, with a trace of laughter in her own voice. "Maybe I'll sign you up for golf lessons and see how you like it!"

"Well, now, see, I have to work, so I really don't have time," I demurred, still wiping at the tears in my eyes.

She didn't even seem to hear me. "AND? I don't think my fingers will ever straighten out again."

"Why?" I mananged to say while still laughing.

"From gripping the club so hard!" she said in exasperation.

"But honey, are you supposed to grip it that hard?" I asked innocently.

"NO!" she responded with frustration. "But if I don't, I'm gonna throw the stupid club! And stop laughing!!!"

I ended my conversation with the young Tigress by telling her to go home, drink some water, relax and call me later. Which she did, and after some relaxing? I think she actually kind of liked the golfing.

Or to put it in her own words, " I really like hitting things, only not when people are watching me."

I'm hoping by "things" she only meant golf balls...

Yesterday went a little better, although she does have a blister. I promised her a golf glove. Haven't heard from her today yet. But that first day? That conversation will keep me chuckling every time I replay it in my head. God, I love my daughter!

***

And since you are such loyal readers, I will leave you with a few pictures:

Here is Ginger, the cute little puppy who was supposed to be only 30 pounds. She is now 16 1/2 pounds, and not quite four months old. According to the nice attorney in my office, "Looks like you are going to have the World's Largest Sheltie." Not funny.

And? Drumroll, please... my favorite godson and the pro golfer extrordinaire. TOO CUTE, RIGHT?? All right, folks, dasi, OUT!!

School Days...

Hi! It's me, dasi! I know, I know... Does being totally EXHAUSTED excuse me from my blogging? Because between the two jobs, a suddenly sullen and attitude-laden daughter, a dibetic cat and a puppy who is growing more than she should (15 lbs already - and she's not even 4 months old!!), I haven't had time to THINK, much less blog. Anyway, I'm sure none of you have any sympathy for me. You don't care about my issues - unless I am blogging about them, right?? (Did I mention that being stressed and exhausted makes me chairman of my very own Pity Party as well??) Anyway, lucky readers that you are - this goes out to all three of you who still check my humble blog every once in a blue moon. It's actually going to be a very good blog, because it is about my grammar school reunion, and with PICTURES, no less!

So this was all a few weeks ago, after much planning and organizing the day itself finally arrived. I was really excited. Mary Pat and I got there early to set up, and Paul, Lynn and Sue showed up a little while after. Now, Paul and I have been in close contact for a while now, but Lynn and Sue I haven't seen in forever. And guess what? THEY DIDN'T RECOGNIZE ME!! I was really happy! Because, dear readers, in grammar school, you would know me as the girl with the glasses, bad perm, worse teeth, and unibrow. Yes, unibrow. I hate to admit it, but it is true. Can anyone say "awkward phase?" Heh.

So as the night went on, I continued to drink these yummy concoctions the bartender was making for me (cranberry vodka, pear vodka and lemonade - I think. I just kept telling her "make me another whatever") and since I don't drink very often anymore, I was EXTRA social. For instance, guess who was there? KRIS ROGOWSKI. You may remember her from this blog a while back. And guess what? She is still pretty snarky. I sat down next to her at the bar and told her she was really mean in grammar school. Her reply? "Funny, I don't remember being mean..." To which I responded, "Oh, you were, believe me! Actually, I wrote about you on my blog. Because my daughter has a friend who is just like you were. Or had a friend, actually. Because she really doesn't talk to her anymore. And I'm really glad, you know, because that girl is a little BITCH." After that, there was kind of a lull in the conversation. Go figure. But I tell you, it felt great 25 years later to finally confront her!! There she is, the short one on the end in the black shirt. And not to sound rude, (oh, hell, who am I kidding? I WANT to sound rude!!) but she should really start wearing a bra.
The other girls look GREAT, though - look at Suzy in the pink pants - she has FOUR sons - the oldest is 16. AMAZING!! And Julie, with the long hair and black camisole top? Two kids, 11 and 10. I think for the most part, our class aged well.

I've told you about Paul before, right? He was my unrequited love in fifth grade. I say unrequited because EVERYONE knew about my crush, and this is what he wrote in my fifth grade autograph book (yes, fifth grade authograph book. What can I say? We were a bunch of geeks.):
Broke my heart, the little shit. But as it turned out, we dated for a while in sophomore year in high school (once he discovered I turned into a "f---ing babe") as seen in this lovely picture (check out my Flashdance shirt - GOD I loved that shirt!!): Eventually we wound up just friends, and now he is living happily ever after with his true love, James. So I guess it is for the best that things didn't work out romantically... I love Paul to death though, and the fact of the matter is that we STILL make a damn good-looking couple regardless! My other grammar school crush Tony was there as well, only he was with his wife. He looks pretty much the same and is a real sweetheart. Here's my two grammar school loves:
He's a cutie, isn't he?? The only down side of the evening was the fact that three of our classmates were unable to make it because two had passed away, and the third, well... here he is in sixth grade:
AND, here he is now:
I tried to convince the rest of the class that we should take a road trip out to Logan the next day, you know, just say "hi" and maybe drop off his copy of the "Revue of '82" (our class variety show - he did a square dance, I bet his fellow inmates would LOVE it!!) but there were no takers. Go figure.

Anyway, that was my reunion in brief. I'd write more, but all that photo uploading took a lot out of me. And I really should do some work for Satan, since I am stuck here until November. But since we all had such a great time at the Reunion, we are now planning a picnic for all the kids and families too. Amazing how even after 25 years some bonds just never break...

I Done Good!

Well, since I forwarded my reunion survey and included a link to my humble blog, it appears I have indeed attracted several new visitors. And I also received several e-mails from old classmates, all of which I greatly appreciated. One of said e-mails included the line “you seem to have done well for yourself.” When I saw that, I actually laughed out loud. Because, well, I never really thought I did. I mean, here are my fellow classmates, pretty much all of whom are married, with happy families, college degrees up the wazoo, impressive job titles and hobbies and interests – and then there’s me. Still single (although I’m really not complaining too much about that – well, usually!), dropped out (ok, advised to leave) college without receiving any fancy letters after my name, paralegal with no paralegal certification (read – intelligent, yet glorified secretary) slash Red Lobster waitress who has more shows on my tivo than time to watch. And not because I have no time, mind you, but because I am hooked on EVERY tv show created. Almost.

But then I started thinking… maybe I didn’t do well for myself in conventional terms, but in the grand scheme of things, I guess I did. Because of my little detours through life, I have faced more obstacles than most people ever will. I went from the Catholic school honor roll student to the high school/college wannabe “cool” girl (but instead was just the hanger-on who put up with all the teasing and “joking around” just to be accepted) to the even more insecure girlfriend of a drug addict to a drug addict myself… and then finally to a survivor. A survivor in the truest sense of the word – because I fought like hell to overcome my addiction and build a life for myself and my daughter on my own. In recovery I met a lot of people, and the sad truth is that a lot of them never managed to completely kick the habit. I’ve been to the funerals of several. I’ve heard nightmarish stories about others. And I thank God that I was able to stay clean. And? I pray for the strength to stay clean. Because even almost a dozen years later, I don’t know what I would do if anyone offered me a hit. Or a line. Sure, I drink, I don’t believe one addiction necessarily constitutes abstinence from everything, but I have never put myself in a position where I may have to test my resolve where cocaine is concerned. Scary thing is, working at Red Lobster especially puts me in a place where I know damn well there may be a situation thrown at me involving coke, since most of my coworkers are just slightly (ha!) younger than me, and I remember how invincible twenty-somethings feel. Not that I hang out with them or anything, (although I did go to a party once… that is one story I’ll have to share!) but if I do go to a party or something I have to remember where I came from and act accordingly.

Wow – that was heavy stuff. I guess what I’m trying to say while I sidetrack myself is that I did do well for myself. I’m proud of the person I am, the employee I am, the mother and sister and daughter I am. I’m proud of what I accomplished, even though to some it may not seem like much. Because I did it myself – busted my ass, in fact. And will continue to do so because that’s the kind of person I am.

Oh, and? If any of the hostesses from RL are reading this – you do think I’m pretty cool, right? Because my daughter told me you were only being nice to me because I am old. Which I’m not, of course. Old, that is. I am so definitely cool.

Just Another Excuse...

…for not writing more. But at least it’s a cute excuse – I broke down and got that puppy last Saturday. Her name is Ginger and she is a sheltie mix – all of about 7 pounds right now. Baby and Ace seem to be getting along with her a bit better lately – that’s Ace in the pictures with her. Of course, she is now chewing everything – including the cats, so they aren’t very happy with her currently! We had a little scare with her over the weekend, she had a case of kennel cough that developed into “puppy pneumonia,” but after $254 in vet bills and two different kinds of antibiotics, she seems to be doing well. Anyway, with two cats, two jobs, a puppy and a daughter, my sanity level is deteriorating rapidly!I figured I ought to update, even briefly, since I put a link to this on my grammar school reunion survey. So if there are any St. Monica alums reading this – HI!!! And I hope you enjoy my ramblings. For the rest of you, my 25 year Grammar School Reunion is rapidly approaching, and I am really looking forward to it. It’s been a lot of fun getting things organized, my friend and I were picking out music the other night and cracking up at some of the old songs. Of course, Lexie just rolled her eyes and made fun of us AND our music. But really, what does an 11 year old know, anyway, right??

Funny thing is, it’s been kind of bittersweet, because memories have a way of twisting up your insides and making you do silly things like play the “what if” game… Obviously, my regular readers know my background – my fellow alums will probably be a bit shocked when (or if) they ever read “TBOTE,” but looking back makes you regret the mistakes and long for second chances. Which I know is really ridiculous, because I am a firm believer in the theory that everything happens for a reason. EVERYTHING. And you can’t go back, anyway, so there’s really no use in regrets or “if only’s.” But still… And you should see my old classmates! Well, on paper, at least! It’s really great to know how happy and successful they all seem. Which has a tendency to coax out that annoying little voice that whispers “God, and look at what a loser you turned out to be!” I hate that voice. Because it’s not true – but it still can make you feel insecure at the most inconvenient times.

I guess it’s pretty normal though, to be worried as being perceived as “not good enough” or “the loser…” Although the bottom line is, I know of ONE classmate who is a much bigger loser than I could ever be…! And I won’t tell you who – you can guess all you want (and you’ll probably be right, anyway) but you’ll find out for sure at the reunion!

Well, I think this post will suffice for the time being. Maybe my hit count will start increasing a bit too – I seem to have lost a few people (gee, wonder why??) and hopefully I can lure them back with the promise of more posts. So for what it’s worth – I promise more posts. More frequently too. Honest!

Stuck in Neutral

I want to write. I WANT to write. I want to write about the party I went to Saturday night, and how it was fun but bittersweet at the same time, because I’m not the same person I was all those years ago. I want to write more of my novel, I want to FINISH my novel, for God’s sake. I want to write about my upcoming reunion, and how I’m really excited to see all the people I went to grade school with, but how I’m also afraid they won’t like who I am now. I want to write about the fact that today is one of my high school best friend’s birthday, but the last time I saw her was a few years ago and we lost touch… which kind of bums me out. I want to write about a documentary I watched the other day on HBO about a girl in Canada who is a crack addict and can’t stop. I want to write about my daughter who is growing up so fast that it is killing me trying to teach her independence and yet protect her at the same time.

I want to write – but I can’t. And all these thoughts in my head are making me crazy just itching to get out, yet my fingers don’t seem to want to cooperate in the typing department. And when they DO – the thoughts get so jumbled they just don’t seem to come out right. At all.

I hate this. I really do. But I can’t force myself to write, therefore I will continue to wait out this drought and hope that someday I can get myself back on track. Soon.

Wow - It's a New Post!

Wow - I didn't realize it had been two weeks again... What's happening to me?? Is it possible to lose your creativity with old age as well as everything else? Dunno, but for whatever reason, writing hasn't exactly been tops on my priority list... Even though there ARE times I really feel like writing, unfortunately those times are usually pretty inopportune, like during a waitressing shift or while I am lying in bed. But I'm not going to apologize, because that seems like a waste of time. Like I tell my daughter, apologies only mean something if you CHANGE the behavior you are apologizing for. And I can't honestly say my bogging will increase, but I can say I will try. Anyway, enough of the small talk.

I didn't quit RL, actually, in talking to the GM I got the write up rescinded and was told that it is "refreshing" to have an employee actually approach the situation with maturity and rationalization rather than just screaming, yelling and complaining. I think I should be flattered, but I also feel old. Actually, I liked it better working at RL when I dated the manager and never had to worry about write-ups... ;) I think the whole situation got blown way out of proportion. Matt, the writer-upper, has been extremely nice and has gone out of his way to make me happy lately. I think he may have been repreimanded for going overboard, but I also think he only wrote me up because he felt as though he needed to "flex his muscles" and remind me who is boss. Silly to get involved in a pissing match with an employee no matter what, if you ask me, but whatever. It is over and done with and I have moved on.

Satan has informed me that he shall continue his reign in Hell until November 30, so now I have an official end date. And no severance. Bummer. Although, I DO get a nice bonus if I stay at least until September 1, which I think I can manage. And he also told me that if I do stay beyond 9/1, until 11/30, that I can bring a book to read or surf the web when I have nothing to do, since it will be pretty slow. So hell (no pun intended), I figure even if I DO find a job before 11/30, I'll make sure my start date isn't until December, cause who doesn't want to get paid for reading books and surfing the net?? Especially if I won't get in trouble for it if I get caught!! ;) Things have been pretty crazy around here lately, though, since he is (yay) leaving for his annual two week spring vacation on the 26th. So as he has done every year at this time, he is dumping ridiculously large loads of work on me and expecting the impossible as far as getting things done. Actually, I really SHOULD be working on files instead of blogging right now, but he isn't in yet, and lately if I feel the need to write and I have the time I need to just DO IT. besides, what's he gonna do, fire me? HA!

Oh my. I actually do have a few really interesting things to share with y'all, but I think I will wait just a bit. A few client stories from here in Hell, tales about grammar school reunion planning, and of course cute nephew and wonderful/impossible daughter stories. But like I said, those will wait. And hopefully keep you coming back. Well, the promise of those stories and the hope that one day you'll see a new Chapter should keep you checking in for I figure a couple more months, right? (I know, I know, BAD DASI. "TBOTE" has officially hit a major roadblock. What can I say? I'm workin' on it!!) Have a great one, later!!

Standing Up for Myself

I can’t remember the last time I was this upset – this FRUSTRATED and ANGRY. I had a really hard time sleeping last night because my mind was racing, going over everything that happened and getting more and more pissed off. And even today, I am still upset. It may sound stupid, and you may think I am overreacting, but I have a tendency to take things like this very seriously. Especially when I feel personally attacked, as I do in this situation. So enough of the prelude, here is what happened.

As you all know, I have been at RL for just over four months now. And I enjoy it. Really I do. But honestly? I am frickin’ exhausted. I am pushing 40 and working over 60 hours a week, 20 plus on my feet running around. But I deal. Because, well, I want/need the money, and I am good at serving. I know this because I am told so by my guests and by my managers. Well, some of the managers, at least. In any case, I have no problem working the hours if the money is there, and Lexie has been a real trooper through the whole transition. Although that, too, has been hard. It’s actually part of the reason for the whole puppy thing, sort of a “keep her busy” project when summer starts. ANYWAY.

On several occasions, I have been in situations where I either have a table finishing or leaving, and no other tables at all. Which means that I hadn’t been “sat” in a while, since my most recent table is ready to leave. When this happens, it is usually a bit later in the evening, or if not, ridiculously slow. So I tend to do my “sidework,” clean off my tables, and look forward to getting home to Lexie. And then: I get sat. And almost immediately after I have greeted this new table, I get told that I am “cut” – which means the hostesses won’t be seating me any more and I am finished for the night – that is, when this new table has eaten, paid, and left. This burns the HELL out of me, and I have told the managers as much on several occasions. For those of you not in the service industry, let me explain why.

Servers do get paid an hourly rate, but their major income is from tips. The hourly rate for servers is currently $3.90 an hour. And The Man takes taxes out of both your hourly wage AND what your tip calculation is, based on your sales for the night. Besides this, servers have to “tip out” both the busboy and the bartender, 10% of your alcohol sales to the bar, and a minimum of $3 to the busboy, generally more if they are extra helpful. So when you have one table at the end of your shift, and no others, you will probably be on the clock for at least another hour – waiting for one tip which generally is about $5 - $7, out of which you may have to tip the bar (if they are drinking) and honestly? My time is worth more than $5 an hour. Especially if it is during the week and I have been working since 8:30 am and have a daughter to get home to. But besides complaining to the managers, there isn’t much you can do. Which REALLY sucks. And? I am not the only server this happens to, and certainly not the only one irritated (to put it lightly) by the whole thing.

So last night is incredibly slow. But even so, I manage to get five tables sat pretty much one after the other – only it is two singles and three deuces. (Even though at RL it is pretty much FORBIDDEN for a server to have more than 3 tables at a time – remember that fact.) All small checks. And due to a mixup with a new server, I end up taking a table that was supposed to be hers – only they had been sitting there for like ten minutes. I do my best to schmooze them and yet? $4 on a $60 check. Yes, dear readers, BAD tip night. Which happens – whatever. So my last two tables are finishing up, one pays and leaves, the other asks for containers for their leftovers. By now it is about 8:30, and we close at 10:00. Not much happening on a Tuesday night. When I come back with the containers, I notice that the hostess is leading an old man to my station. ONE DAMN OLD MAN who has a newspaper, no less. And here I am, sidework done, finishing up my last table at 8:30 on a Tuesday night. I can feel the flushing start in my face, but I calm myself and walk up to the manager in front and ask, “Ok, Matt? Why did they just seat me a single when I have no other tables? I mean, am I going to be cut now and be stuck with just this one guy?”

Matt was a bit flustered – he’s a young guy. “Well, um, I mean, you’re not cut yet… but yeah, probably really soon…”

“Ok, so why seat me a single? I really don’t want to hang around for another hour or two waiting for ONE GUY. Besides, this is the third single I’ve had tonight, and I’ve made no money whatsoever.”

“Yeah, well… see, your station was the most accommodating, so we had to seat it…”

At this point, another server, Jim (bless his heart) jumps in and says, “I’ll take him, dasi.”

But I tell him don’t worry about it, because he is on the other side of the restaurant. I instead approach a closing server, and ask him if he will take the table so I can go home. He is very good about it and understands completely. “Absolutely,” he says. “Why would you want to hang around for a single? I’ve got it, don’t worry.”

I thank him profusely, and finish up the rest of my work.

But then I am accosted my Matt. With a whole “You-can’t-do-that-that-was-your-table-and-you-weren’t-cut-yet-and-I-said-so-and-now-you-broke-the-rules” tirade.

I try to explain my situation, that I gave the table to a closer, which is often done by other servers, and I didn’t see the big deal.

“They’re not supposed to do that either. You weren’t cut, and since you start at 5:30, you have to stay on later to make it fair to the other servers who come in at 4:00 or who work splits.”

Ok, temper: check. Deep breath. “Matt,” I explain calmly, “as Chris (our GM) knows, I work a full-time job during the day. THAT is why I start at 5:30. I am not a kid whose only job is serving. And honestly? I get tired after about twelve hours in a row working. But that’s not the problem – I just do not want to waste my time hanging around for $3.”

More blather about “you can’t do that” and so I agreed that if I found myself in that situation again I would talk to a manager first. “Well, I have something for you before you leave tonight. Don’t leave before you see me,” he warned, and stalked off.

That “something?” A Written Warning. Which blew my mind. I told him and Zach (the other manager on duty) that I did NOT agree with this, that I thought it was unfair, and I was told that I had to sign it, but there was room for my comments. So you bet your sweet ASS I commented.

And after reading my comments, the two managers tried to rationalize and justify the write up by saying “if other servers are doing this too, we need to let them know. This isn’t just about you.” Oh, so I’M the scapegoat?? Was a Written Warning REALLY necessary?? I let them babble about guest service and hostesses needing to know who had what tables and not being fair to anyone else in the restaurant by my “misdeed.” I came back with the problems of “seating-then-cutting” and argued that the process wasn’t fair. The end result? The write-up stuck, but I think I made the managers uncomfortable with my ability to stand up for myself and not just shuffle my feet and mumble “ok, sorry, guys.”

I left with tears burning my eyes because it was so damn HUMILIATING to be treated like a grammar school kid getting a checkmark for bad behavior on their report card, especially by managers at least ten years my junior. And because I STILL don’t think it was fair. And like I said, I couldn’t sleep either, I kept tossing and turning and wondering if it all was worth it. Maybe I forego the new car and buy a used one, maybe we shine the puppy for now, and maybe I put RL in my past permanently. Maybe two jobs IS too much, and I know I DEFINITELY don’t need any more bullshit in my life.

I plan to discuss this with Chris, the GM, before my shift starts today. I have a lot of questions about Matt and Zach’s theories – such as, if they are so worried about guest dissatisfaction by having too many tables per server, why was I sat five tables? And what about when servers rotate in their sections (which they often do)? They don’t tell the managers or hostesses about that, how can they know who has what tables then? And does he really think that I am wrong about the “seat-and-cut” problem? Most importantly, does he think I am not a good server? If he can’t placate me, and make me understand why I should stay, maybe I will end my RL career. Because you know what? I have been through too much in my life to let some power trippy junior managers crush my spirit. Screw that.

Oh – and as far as the day job? Satan says we’re here till November.

Over and out.

Ok, So I'm Weak...

...but who could possible resist this little furball? No, he's not mine. But this is the kind of puppy Lexie and I are getting come June. A Keeshond. Long story on the "why's" and "wherefore's", but suffice it to say my daughter won her long standing battle for a puppy.
I'll give you the details later. A bit busy now - but I wanted to let you all know I'm not dead, either.

Who I Am

Growing up, I often felt “not good enough.” For whatever reason, I always had a hard time being proud of who I was. I always thought people didn’t really like me, boys didn’t really think I was pretty, teachers didn’t really think I was smart. I would get a sick feeling in my stomach when I said something I thought (in retrospect) was “stupid,” or if a friend didn’t call me back after I left a message, or if anyone looked at me in a way I interpreted as disdainful.

Because of this, I had extremely low self-esteem. Which may or may not have caused my life to take the twists and turns it ultimately did. In any case, I wound up pulling myself out of the hellhole I had been calling my life, stopped using drugs, and built a brand new life which I am very proud of. I never pulled any punches when it came to my past, because although it may not be a part of my life I am proud of, it made me who I am today. I have no problem telling people I am an addict, that I have eleven plus years clean. Obviously – or I wouldn’t be writing “TBOTE.” I feel it is a major part of who I am – the lessons learned both while I was “out there” and while I was in the recovery process are important ones. I learned to stand on my own two feet, to claim back my life under my terms, to accept help when I need it but to bust my ass to try to make things work on my own first.

It took all those years and all those experiences to make me strong, to make me accomplished, to make me mature. And yet there is still a part of me that aches when people look at me sideways, intentionally or not, still a part of me that feels that pang of insecurity when confronted with a group of people having a good time and laughing – wondering if they are laughing at me. Sometimes I can convince myself that it doesn’t matter what people think – that I know who I am, and I am a good person. Usually I manage to brush off the insecurities and realize that people like me for me, no matter what my faults are, and that nobody is perfect anyway.

And then I encounter a situation like the one last night and I feel like that stupid little girl again – wondering if I screwed up, feeling that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Even though at the time I thought nothing of it, and honestly still don’t, my parents have a way of making me feel ashamed, and I hate that.

See, some of the younger guy servers were standing around discussing drugs. More specifically, cocaine and crack. Their conversation amused me. One of them was saying how once you got addicted to crack, you were never the same. You were so messed up mentally and physically, that no matter what, you would be obviously scarred for life.

“Really?” I asked, trying to suppress a grin.

“Oh, yeah! I have a friend – he is really bad, man. You can just look at him and tell. And he like lost part of his mind, too. He like can’t get a job or anything.”

“So what you’re saying is that if you are addicted to, say, crack, even if you quit, you've pretty much screwed up your whole life?” I inquired.

The other two servers nodded gravely and also explained to me that basically addicts were ruined for life, because anyone could spot them a mile away since they deteriorated physically so extremely. Plus, they killed so many brain cells, they really could barely even form coherent sentences, even after they quit. Oh, and emotionally? They couldn’t bear to socialize with people anymore, they just lived in the dark and pretty much went crazy.

Ok, so maybe it is a good thing that these twenty-somethings truly thought that addiction was that bad. But it still struck me as funny, I mean, come on!

“Ever heard of CA?” I asked nonchalantly.

Initially – a blank look. Then, “Oh, yeah! Cocaine Anonymous, right?”

I smiled sweetly. “Just over eleven years.”

The looks on their collective faces was priceless. One of them shook my hand. “Wow! You? Eleven years clean though, huh? Amazing!”

Yes, me. This thirty-something single mom working two jobs, a slightly overweight but still pretty enough woman who can string together plenty of coherent sentences, the waitress who goes straight home to her daughter after every shift instead of joining the young’uns at the bars… I am an addict. I survived the hell I lived in, and I have no problem talking about it. I mean, I don’t go around saying “Look at me! I used to smoke crack!” but if the subject comes up, I don’t shy away from it. Why should I? I am a good person who made some bad choices. And if I can help other people understand addiction, or if I can stop someone from using by sharing my experience, or if I can plant the seed of recovery into a fellow addict’s mind – well, then, yay me.

But when I got home and called my father, anxious to share my “funny story,” he cut me off.

“You didn’t tell them about you, did you?” he demanded.

The old uncertain me always wanting to please kicked into overdrive. “No, of course not,” I responded meekly, suddenly not thinking it was that funny.

“Good, because people don’t need to know. It changes how they think about you. It’s not something to talk about,” he responded.

I hung up the phone feeling guilty and ashamed. Why did I tell them? I was a bad person, and now they all knew it. I was no longer dasi the nice server, I was dasi the lowlife addict.

But then I started to get angry. Angry at my dad for making me feel that way, and angry at myself for letting him. I called my mom to vent.

“But honey, there are some things you just shouldn’t discuss,” she said gently. “You know, people don’t need to know everything.”

“But mom! It’s ME. A part of MY life. And I may not be proud of it, but I’m certainly not ashamed,” I explained, wanting her to understand.

But she didn’t.

“Yes, well, we certainly aren’t ashamed of you, but it’s just not something you should really discuss with people.”

So sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened. They are ashamed. And even though I have made great strides in my life, even though I beat my addiction and clawed my way into a better life for myself and my daughter, we just "won’t discuss it." Because nice families and good people don’t have addictions.

Well guess what? I DO. And I know I am a good person. And I am NOT ashamed of who I am. I have regrets, but I don’t dwell on them. I have moved forward, and I will continue to do so. I will talk about my history and answer peoples’ questions, and some people may judge me for it, but I don’t care. I refuse to hide who I am to please society or my parents.

I am dasi, and I am an addict. Deal with it.