Long Overdue

See, so I read other peoples' blogs, and then I feel guilty about mine... It's a good thing this blog is an inanimate object, otherwise I'm sure I would be proscuted for neglect and probably have all blogging privileges terminated. And THAT would be sad. Because neglectful as I am, when I want to write, I WANT TO WRITE, and faithful blogger is always there waiting for me to do so. So I'm sorry (again) blogger, and I won't even bother saying I'll write more frequently, since I probably won't (but MAYBE I will...!) and I despise liars. Anyhoo...

There are several things I could write about today, and I have decided that because of this, I will not write a long, rambling post on one subject, I will instead try to cram all those things in. Which may make it long and rambling anyway, but at least there will be diversity.

First of all, Kevin. Yes, I am still writing him, and so far he hasn't threatened to kill me or proposed marriage. So I feel pretty safe. His last letter actually made me laugh out loud, he told me when he wasn't in church or in meetings (of the AA/NA variety) he stayed in the dayroom and played Scrabble. And that he was the Scrabble King. But only because none of the other players knew how to spell anything longer than three letters. Kevin always had a great sense of humor. He also asked me to contact his sister, which I did. We had a great talk - and I reassured her that I had no intentions of seducing or being seduced by her brother. (And I swear I still don't, if you are reading this now!) Actually, I am enjoying corresponding with him and feeling that maybe in some weird way I am helping him get on the right track. But 12 years is a long time, and like I said, I am pretty happy with my life how it is right now. HOWEVER, his sister is an amazing woman and I am really glad we talked. She asked for the link to this, so hopefully she won't be too upset by TBOTE... Then again, I'm sure she knew more of what was going on than we thought she did. But shout out to you, E, and thanks for not hating ME.

In the spirit of "helping" Kevin, I also recently had a heart to heart with a cousin of mine who is STILL using. Oh, wait, that's right, no she's not. She insisted that she has been clean for "almost a year now." With NO help or rehab. After about 30 or so years of using. (What-Ever!) She has 3 kids, one son in college, a 15 year old daughter, and a 5 year old daughter. I don't know why I deceided to confront her NOW instead of earlier in my dozen plus years of being clean, but as it turned out, she agreed to go to an NA (Narcotics Anonymous) meeting with me, which she had never done before. And which I personally hadn't done in almost 10 years (not something I would recommend, but different strokes for different folks, and although I know I am not "cured," I have been doing well on my own. But without the meetings for the first three, I NEVER would've made it. But I digress...). I was a little freaked out, first that she agreed to go, second that I was actually going to a meeting again. I called a friend of mine who is still religious in the program, and his comment? "Yeah, dasi? Remember the 12th Step? To help others? It usually doesn't take TEN YEARS to do that...!" Thanks, Mike! It turned out really well, though - she cried a lot, and I think the seed has been planted. It was good for me, too, to be reminded of where I came from. Being around people with so short clean time really jars you when you've been there yourself. I can only pray though that she continues, for her sake AND for her kids' - because as they say, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink. Well, I led. Start drinkin, cuz.

Lexie is making me totally insane - she will be 13 in August (I KNOW! I will be the mother of a TEENAGER! GASP!!!) and suddenly knows EVRYTHING. And TELLS me constantly. "I KNOW I am right! YOU are WRONG, and you KNOW it!" I have learned to ignore her. Arguing back only makes it worse. Basically, she is a good kid, but geez, the ATTITUDE!!! And her WHOLE life? AIM on the computer. Which I told you about before. And that punk-ass Lester?? I would tell you what he recently wrote to her, but it would make you all blush. Let's just say he implied he "needed help with his sex ed homework" and all she would have to do is (um...) orally pleasure him (my words, he was much more crude) and sign a piece of paper. I KNOW!!!! HE IS TWELVE!! Well, maybe 13, but WTF????? Thankfully, my daughter told him it looked like he was going to fail and promptly signed off. So like I said - good kid at the core, but making me crazy as hell and nervous too. I trust her - I just don't know about all the other kids in this world. *sigh*

AND THE CUBS!!!! YAY CUBBIES!!! Ok, so right at this precise moment we are getting slammed by the Rockies (shut up, Kendra & Amber) but you can't win them all. JUST MOST OF THEM!!! Tee hee!! This is OUR year, I am telling you. AND? I won two tickets for a rooftop party on June 12th. For those of you NOT blessed to be residing in the Chicagoland area, the rooftops are buildings right across the street from Wrigley Field where people can go on the roof and watch the game. Just like being there, but better in ways - since there is FREE FOOD AND BEVERAGES THROUGH THE ENTIRE GAME. Oh, joy! My friend Rene and I are planning to have a helluva time!! And I am SERIOUSLY contemplating dropping a huge chunk of money on a trip to Orlando with Cubs players in December. I have already been justifying the trip in my head, although in all honesty I shouldn't do it... but then again... Can you tell I am a die-hard Cubs fan???

Work here is awesome - I really enjoy what I do. Something about taking people's money for criminal debts is really fun. And also? Investigating people's backgrounds and assets and busting them for trying to cover up money they don't want us to know they have? HELLO? FUN AS HELL!!! A press release was just issued on one of our debtors who owned a hospital and was committing fraud and had to pay like $65 MILLION in restitution. This was like 5 or 6 years ago, and he HAS NOT PAID A DIME. But guess what?? Turns out he has offshore accounts in the Bahamas which he CLAIMED he had no control over... LIAR!!!! So now he is facing even more charges and the government will most likely take every dime he has to pay back the innocent people he scammed. See? FUN!!!

Finally, my old buddy Chef Scatzman stopped by my house the other day - he was the other attorney in Satan's office. The NICE one. Who now has his own practice (need a lawyer in the Chicagoland area? For ANYTHING? Call Jeff Saltzman (847) 397-6030 - shameless plug, there). I have referred a couple people to him, and we keep in touch, because he is a great lawyer, and an even GREATER person. So he stops by and gives me this really cool plant, and a Thank You card which almost made me cry, and several gift cards - more than I deserve! Basically, he let me know it meant a lot to him that I always was concerned about his family and his business, and I was a good friend, and he was proud of me for getting my new job. Awwww, Chef! Seriously, the guy is awesome. And now I can get some new clothes!

Heavens! Look at the time! I have to get back to making the bad guys pay. But at least now you're all updated!

****POSTSCRIPT - Did I say the Cubs were getting slammed by the Rockies?? How about coming back from an 8-run deficit to take the lead in the 7th???? GO CUBS!!!!!!!!

Am I Nuts???

Seriously. I was just wondering. Because, you know, I did something that was probably NOT the smartest thing in the world to do. HOWEVER, I am one of those ridiculously nostalgic people who have a tendency to relive the past in their minds and occasionally look up old phone numbers or e-mails just to see how the friend I had in sixth grade is doing...

Yeah. But. THIS, this can of worms I opened up... This may be right up there with the time I thought holding my yet-to be-declawed cat while wearing a short sleeved shirt and trying to take him on the balcony would be a good idea. Although, the gashes in my arms DID heal eventually...

So, are you all dying of curiosity yet? (Those of you who still read my blog, I mean!) Fine. I am loathe to admit it, but here goes. AND? As I know for a fact that my brother, mother and father NEVER read this, I would be much obliged if those of you who know them would keep this to yourself for the time being.

Yes, it's THAT bad. See, last week I was doing my routine check of all the jails in the Illinois area, and guess who landed in County Jail on St. Patrick's day? I'll give you a hint: he is the male lead in "TBOTE." Yup, none other than my tragically lost Kevin. And probably because I was feeling nostalgic, and life has been a bit overwhelming, and maybe because I am a bit of a fool, I wrote him a letter.

And mailed it.

When I told a select few friends, they all asked, "You didn't put a return address, did you?" To which I replied, "Of course I did - how else would he write back?"

Duh. Yeah, I mean, Kevin had been harmless in the past, but this is like his second or third stint in jail, and it's been like twelve years, and the charges weren't listed, and...? I have a tendency to overlook anything bad and just remember good things. It never really occurred to me that he could show up on my doorstep with a gun and a smile and kill me in my sleep. Ok, so that is a bit extreme, but if I was really being honest with myself I would have to admit that I really didn't know him anymore. And just because he would never have hurt me in the past didn't mean that he was still a basically nice guy with some issues - he could now be some drug-crazed, brain-addled psychotic.

Who I just wrote a letter to telling him how disappointed I was to see him in jail again and that he should really think about getting help. Because I still thought about him (true) and still cared about him (well, the "him" I knew, anyway), and because look how awesome MY life turned out when I straightened up. Oh, and that I was sorry about his mother. Since she died and all.

Yes, I was lecturing an ex that I hadn't seen in over a decade who was now in jail and probably wouldn't appreciate my "concern." Maybe it WASN'T such a great idea. But it was too late.

Then - SURPRISE! I get a letter. A SEVEN PAGE letter. From Kevin. Who still cares about me. Who still talked about me - most recently to his cellmate, just the other day. Who couldn't believe how strange it was that just when he had been talking about me, he gets a letter from me.

I have to admit, I cried. It really hurt reading his words and thinking about the past - the good times with Kev. Because despite everything, there were a LOT of good times. The big problem was the drugs. And? In his letter Kevin said the same thing. Said that for the last 8 years, he has been trying to stay clean. That his sister had been helping him out. That he was so glad I was living a happy life.

In fact, he pretty much told me everything that happened that led to this most current arrest. Apparently, he had been doing really well, had his own place, a good job, was clean and doing meetings daily - then he found out his dad had cancer. And he sat at home and got really drunk. Alone. And broke into a garage and stole a bike with a flat tire (my favorite line? "I know - I'm not the sharpest crayon in the box sometimes." Because to hear him admit that when I've known it all along... at least when it comes to getting into trouble. We're talking about a guy who got busted stealing a snowblower at 3 AM in the middle of July - and trying to say he was just borrowing it from a friend.) And he called an ex-girlfriend who also was an addict who came over and they got high and long story short, she took the bike out, got arrested, and got Kevin arrested too.

Since then, he has been in treatment in jail, and his sister has hired an attorney and he plans to live with her again and start all over. Which is good. He sounds so optimistic about everything, and even though I could be a sucker for this - I believe him. I really think he can make this work. He thanked me for my letter, and for the constructive criticism, and said he was glad I was happy. And he asked if I could write again, and maybe send some pictures. And you know what? I just did. This time, I told him to hang in there, to keep focused, to get better. And I told him that it would be nice to be friends again if he were to stay sober.

The thing is, I feel pretty confident in myself that after all this time, I would never fall back into old habits. I have too much good in my life now, and can't even imagine going back down that road. Not even Kevin can bring me back there, because I am not the sheltered 22 year old girl he used to know. I am strong, and independent, and happy. I know Kevin has a long way to go in his life, and I am under no illusions that he will have an easy time of it, but it's really hard to just write off someone you loved so much. So maybe I am crazy, but in a way I feel a bit happier knowing that for now, he's ok. And that I really meant something to him. And that maybe my writing to him could help him too.

I guess we'll have to wait and see.

Snoop Dog...

Lexie has a boyfriend. I KNOW!! She is only 12, soon to be 13, and has a boyfriend. But before you get all judgmental on me for allowing this, let me just fill you in on a few things: First of all, a “boyfriend” in junior high is pretty much just a status symbol. There is no real dating, or kissing (however, from what I understand, there IS minimal hugging, and only between classes in school if no teachers are looking), and certainly no one-on-one time. At least, not in person. Junior high relationships are pretty much conducted online, from what I’ve learned.

See, in order to “go out” with someone, they first have to ask you. Either over AIM (AOL Instant Messaging, for those of you not that computer-savvy) or in person, but usually over AIM. Then you change your profile to show the whole AIM world that you are a couple. You know, by saying things like “I LOVE SO-AND-SO” or whatever. Then you spend ungodly amounts of time sending IM’s to the tune of “I love you!” “No, I love you MORE!” “U R AMAZING!” “No, UR AMAZING!” And THOUSANDS of smiley-face icons. Those are important, apparently.

How do I know this? Because I read her AIM log. Does SHE know I do this? HELL NO. Because then she would probably figure out a way to block the log and how can I be a good mother if I can’t read about what is going on in her life?? I realize that if I were 12 again, I would be furious that an adult (especially a parent) would stoop so low as to invade a girl’s privacy like that, but I am a mother now, and privacy is a moot point. I am much more concerned about protecting my daughter to the best of my ability and making sure she is staying out of trouble. I mean, I trust her of course, I just don’t trust anyone else. Especially Lester. Her new “boyfriend.” And, yes, laugh away, but be advised that the little rhyme I am sure you are associating with Lester is EXACTLY the reason I need to monitor her. Or him. Or both of them. Even though it is just a junior high “romance.” Sure, he seemed nice enough online, but lately he has been saying some things I am none too happy about. For instance:

“After lunch a friend of mine asked if I was goin out with u so I said yes, she said I had bad taste in girls”

and

“People say that I’m stupid bc I’m goin out with u even people I never talk to but w/e”

and

“They said that u were stupid especially since u were going out with me and that I was too good for u and that u r just using me”

Of course, he always then adds things like “But I don’t care because I LOVE YOU” and “I really don’t believe them anyway” and “You are totally not stupid.” HOWEVER - I really don’t think it is very nice to bring those things up in the FIRST place! My poor baby!! Making her feel all insecure and not good enough!! STOP DOING THAT, LESTER!! Part of me wants to sign on to AIM myself and tell HIM a little something-something. Like my daughter is WAYYYY too good for YOU, and COME ON, you are only 12, what could she POSSIBLY be using you for??? And STOP telling her “I love you” and then adding “but people tell me ur stupid.” KNOW WHAT, LESTER??? U R STUPID!!! And STOP USING THOSE MORONIC ACRONYMS!!!! AND? WHY DON’T YOU GO BY YOUR MIDDLE NAME INSTEAD OF LESTER??? IT HAS TO BE BETTER, RIGHT??

Sheesh. Sorry about that. I guess being the mother of a pre-teen with a “boyfriend” is kind of stressing me out. But seriously? He’d better watch his step. Because anyone who hurts my angel will wind up hurt themselves. GOT THAT, LESTER????

Let me tell you, it is hard reading these things and not confronting her about it. I really want to sometimes, and actually, I have on one occasion by subtly bringing up the subject while watching TV. There was a girl she was chatting with from another school who was complaining about how “Everyone thinks I have anorexia just because I don’t eat and am 5'4" and 94 pounds and I am so like WHATEVER, I am SO not anorexic!!” Ummmm, sweetie? Hello?? YES YOU ARE. So Lexie and I managed to have a talk about being too skinny (she “just happened” to ask me if being 5'4" and 94 lbs was too skinny - but of course, she doesn’t KNOW anyone like that, she was just ASKING - ha! Little does she know!) and I think I convinced her she is perfect at just the size she is. See, it’s little things like that that make reading the logs worth it. And just for the record, if she had a journal or diary - NEVER would I snoop. EVER. Unless I feared for her life or something. But IM logs? Hey, they’re in cyberspace, right? And anyone can read them, so.... Fair game.

Speaking of cyberspace and anyone reading, let’s hope Lexie isn’t reading this... If she is - hey sweetie! I wasn’t talking about YOU! And I NEVER read your IM logs, that was just a JOKE! But watch your back with that Lester guy...

HELP!!

Why is my sidebar at the bottom of the blog now?? Does anyone know??? I WANT IT FIXED!! And if anyone can help me, I promise to post more often. Well, TRY to, at least... ;)

No Love Lost

At RL yesterday, Eva was reading palms. I never knew she could do this, but Eva is a very versatile person. I shouldn't be surprised. She wasn't like lining people up or anything, she just was looking at Justin's palm and told him a few things while we were standing around between lunch and dinner shifts. So I stuck out my hand.

"What does mine say?" I asked, like an eager child.

She took my hand palm side up and ran hers across it. She tilted it to one side, then the other. Her brow furrowed as she pulled it closer to her face. Then she let go.

"Well, you won't be getting married again," she said.

"Again?" I replied. "I haven't even been married at all yet. Are you saying I'm never getting married?"

"Well, if you do, it won't be for love. You have no love line."

Silly as it sounds, I wanted to cry. Wait! I wanted to say. I must have a love line - just look a little closer! It has to be there!

Instead, I let out a little "oh."

"Sorry, hon, I have to get to my table," Eva said, running off.

Justin was gloating. "Cool - I'm gonna marry into money!"

And I wasn't going to marry at all. All this time, I wondered if something was wrong with me. Now I know it is just fate. The fates must have decided long ago that this was one tough cookie who didn't need anyone. That she could make it just fine on her own. That love was really only found in fairy tales.

HA! Scoffed fate. This girl needs NO ONE!

But I do, thought the little voice inside me. I DO need someone...

I know that palmistry isn't an exact science - but she also told me something she couldn't have known - a very personal fact about my past. So I couldn't help but be kind of rattled. No one wants to be told there's no chance, that the game is over before you even got to play.

Iwant a love line.

I wonder if that means that I've never really loved in the past, either... Kevin, Corry, Dave, Brad... were all those just crushes? Was Kevin a six-year fling? Kind of sad, really.

Oh, hell. What do you do. I guess I'll just have to find some young studs and "hang out" once in a while - you know, since there'll be no love lost.

Anyone know where I can get an old house and a couple dozen cats?

NO WAY!!!!! SERIOUSLY?!?!?!?!?!

Yup, look below. A NEW CHAPTER!!! And for those of you unfamiliar with "TBOTE", I suggest starting with the Chapter links to your right. For those of you who are familiar, you may need a refresher too. ;) I know I did. I apologize for the delay, and will try to update the chapters more often. At least, more often than once a year...!

Hope you enjoy getting back into the story!!

The Beginning of the End, Chapter 40

When we finally pulled up to our new "home," I had managed to wipe away my tears and focus on unloading the car with Kevin. He hadn’t even noticed me silently crying in the car as we drove the last few blocks. Apparently he had a lot on his mind as well.

Schmauser made a beeline under the bed, and I wished I was small enough to join him. I was suddenly so tired of everything, tired of my "adventure" in Reno, tired of partying, tired of life. I dragged in a couple of bags, and was just about to collapse on the bed…

"Kevin?" I asked, staring at the queen sized bed. "Isn’t something missing here?"

The bed was stripped clean. Thankfully, the mattress seemed relatively new, and devoid of any remnants of past users, but there was not a stitch of linen to be found.

"Oh, yeah, Ken warned me about that. Wait – I took the sheets from our old place."
He ambled back in carrying everything from our old bed, right down to the pillows and cheesy bedspread. With a flourish, he tossed them on the mattress where they landed with a "whoomph." I heard Schmauser complain at the intrusion.

"Don’t you think they might be a little upset that you took those?" I inquired tiredly.

"Ah, who cares?" Kevin shrugged. "They probably have a ton more. Ken told me bedding wasn’t included – towels, either. I hope you don’t need to shower, I forgot to grab those," he added sheepishly.

Honestly, all I really wanted was to go to sleep. For a long, long time. The whole experience had left me exhausted. But first I needed to make up the bed. As soon as I had the last blanket laid down, Kevin collapsed on the bed with a sigh.

"Babe, that was really messed up," he said.

I laid myself next to him, and snuggled up as he put his arm around me. "I know," I murmured. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too."

As we laid there, savoring the silence, we both jumped at the sound of a knock at the door.

I looked at Kevin with fear. "You don’t think they followed us or had us followed, do you?"

His eyes were glued to the door. "I’m not sure," he said quietly. "I thought we got out ok, and I was promised my back was covered..."

"Hey, just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood," a girl’s voice called from the other side of the door.

I stared at Kevin in confusion. "Do they have girls working with them?" I whispered.

"Not that I know of," he responded, looking as baffled as I felt.

"You aren't asleep already, are you?" the voice asked. "Cause I can see the lights still on..."

I cautiously walked to the door and opened it a crack. Standing there was a girl about my age, hands on her hips, looking annoyed. I couldn't help staring.

"So, you inviting me in or what?" she asked.

Startled, I pulled the door open wider and motioned for her to come in. She surveyed our room, and her eyes settled on the bed. She sucked her teeth and laughed.

"You got those from another motel, didn't you?" she accused, motioning at the linens.

"So what if we did?" Kevin replied defensively.

"Hey, I don't care," she said, shrugging. "I just recognized them." She turned to me and stuck out a surprisigly well-manicured hand. "Name's Tanya. Nice to meetcha."

I shook her hand with a smile. "Dasi," I said, "and that's Kevin." It had been a while since I had a "real" girlfriend, I had lost touch with Shelley and it seemed my only female friend lately was the State's Attorney. Tanya had a friendly smile and a strong grip, and judging by her unexpected "welcome-to-the-neighborhood" visit, a pretty strong personality as well. I liked her already.

Kevin seemed more skeptical. "You live here yourself?"

She gave him a once-over. "Yeah, so?"

He shrugged. "No reason. So no boyfriend, nothing?"

"He split. A while ago. Why are you asking so many questions? You five-oh?" she asked suspiciously.

I laughed out loud at her query as to us being cops. Even Kevin cracked a smile.

"Hardly," I answered, still giggling. "Actually, he just got out of-"

Kevin cut me off. "Work. I just got out of work. And we needed a new place to crash." He glared at me.

I felt like a child who had just been reprimanded. "Yeah, the last place wasn't working," I added meekly.

Tanya nodded. "Whatever. It's cool." She continued to scrutinze the room. "Soooooo..." she began, testing the waters. "You guys party?"

I felt my stomach lurch. Suddenly I wasn't tired anymore, and it seemed like a hit would make everything better again, especially with a new friend. I pushed back all my earlier fears and worries and looked at Kevin with a question in my eyes.

"Depends," Kevin answered cautiously. "If you're supplying..."

She chained the door and reached into her bra, pulling out a baggie that was gloriously familiar. "I got the favors if you're up for a party," she said smugly. "Like I said, welcome to the neighborhood."

Kevin magically produced a pipe and lighter. "Welcome, indeed."

And the three of us spent what was left of the night, and a good part of the morning as well, partying on Tanya's dime.

"You know, you're a hell of a neighbor," Kevin managed as she squinted in the sunlight as she opened the door to leave.

"Yeah, thanks," I added, still feeling the buzz, but suddenly feeling pretty tired, too.

She smiled and turned around. "No problem," she said. "Hey, dasi, we'll have to do a girl's night out sometime, kay?"

"Definitely," I answered.

She nodded, still smiling my way, like she knew something Kevin didn't. The problem was, neither did I. And my new friend Tanya had secrets of her own that I would find out in a horrible way.

Whale of a Tale

As I stood at the service bar waiting for a table at RL the last Sunday, I overheard the bartender and a couple servers discussing their night out. And? It sounded like fun. And it occurred to me that I haven't really been "out" since my birthday, which was two months prior. Which isn't any big deal, really, but all of a sudden it struck me that I missed having fun. Not necessarily getting wasted, mind you, but going out with people and having fun. So I made an announcement right then and there: "You know what? I hereby resolve in 2008 to have more fun. To go out more. To be a bit more IR-responsible!" I puffed out my chest. "Yup, and I'm gonna lose a bunch of weight too so I can look good doing it. AND? I'm gonna loosen up more too!"

"YAY!" came the chorus from my fellow RL crew.

Yesiree, Bob, this was gonna be my year. Fun fun fun. Although I plan on staying away from the South Side this time. We all know what happened then. Pathetically, though, that was the last time I "hung out" with anyone. Oy, what a sad, sad person I have become!!

In my resolve to be fun and more daring, I bought something I never thought I would: several pairs of thong underwear. See, it just never occurred to me that someone Sir Mix-A-Lot used for his inspiration while writing "Baby Got Back" should ever wear a thong. Plus, I always wondered why, if I was constantly trying to pull underwear out of my crack, I would ever buy underwear that deliberately goes there. Seemed like I would go insane wearing them. But guess what? I didn't! And although I need a bit more work for anyone to see me in only a thong, the reality is that with no panty lines, my ample ass doesn't look half bad, actually. And the comfort level? Pretty darn good. I came to realize there is a big difference between a small piece of material deliberately placed in your crack and a huge chunk of material inappropriately wedged there.

So on Saturday night, I started asking around. "You going out tonight? You going out tonight?" As it turned out, Ashley and John were going to have people over for drinks and Cranium. YAY!!! Drinks and Cranium!! What FUN!! Although I had never actually played Cranium, I was sure it would be a good time. So I told Ashley I had to check in with the boss (that would be Lexie), but that I would try to make it.

I left work at 11:15 pm, and called Lexie on my way home. Not surprisingly, she wanted me anywhere but home so she could keep playing Habbo online and talk to her BFF on the phone while doing so. Apparently having your mother in the direct vicinity takes the fun out of junior high conversations. I stopped home to make sure that was all she was doing (although I have a pretty good kid, so I really didn't doubt her) and took a quick shower. After pouring the remainder of a probably five year old bottle of raspberry vodka into a little sports bottle (about enough for three drinks) I smooched my angel and headed out the door.

I picked up some pink lemonade on my way over, and when I got there, I was ready for some Cranium. Bring it on!! Everyone was surprised to see me, but I reminded them that I was the fun dasi in 2008, so they shouldn't be surprised. And we split into four teams of three and played Cranium. Which, by the way, is really fun. Especially when you've had just a smidgen of alcohol. Ashley kept creating new shots for us to try, but I had to limit myself as I was driving. (Even irresponsibility has its limits, you know.) After we finished the game (which my team lost on a technicality), I was leaning over looking up something on their computer, and that's when I heard it:

"LOOK! Dasi is wearing a thong!!"

Catcalls and snickers followed, and I very nonchalantly responded, "Yes, I am! It is part of the new and improved dasi, thank you very much. My very first thong, by the way."

"Don't fix it," I was told, "it's called a whale tail. And it looks sexy." This from the not-quite-21 year old who looks like Marissa Tomei and is sweet as hell, especially since she thinks I am cool. So I took her advice and fought the urge to adjust my unmentionables which had suddenly become quite, well, mentionable.

"Hey, I like it," one of the guys added.

I wanted to giggle. But I didn't. Because I am a grown mature woman and grown mature women don't giggle. Then again, they probably don't have whale tails or play Cranium on Saturday nights after midnight. So I settled for feeling a little smug and kind of sexy too.

I think maybe being grown and mature is overrated. At least some of the time.

Yay 2008!

FYI

This whole "do everything at lunch" thing is harder than I thought. I still don't have time to read everyone's blogs, and comment, and write on my own. Obviously when I worked for Satan I slacked off a lot more than I realized... Hmmm. Who would've thought? But now that I am a FEDERAL employee, working for the DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE, I need to do actual work during work hours. Which I do. And honestly? It is really interesting work. And I enjoy it. Plus, it is really cool to watch people's faces when you tell them you work for the US government. Especially when I have customers at RL ask me if I am a full-time server. "No, I work for the FEDERAL GOVERNMENT," I tell them nonchalantly. Makes them wonder if I am really a CIA agent posing as a waitress or something. Tee hee! In any case, one hour is not enough time to blog and read and comment, plus on occasion I do get invited to lunch, so if I am sporadic with my postings, be patient. I will return, I promise.

My daughter Lexie is also very impressed that I have a cubicle. Go figure. I guess to a pre-teen a cubicle is cool. Now, I think it is cool that I have a boombox in my cubicle and can listen to whatever I want to, and I have a real nameplate. Just in case anyone forgets my name. Like you-know-who. What's funny is that I took a picture of my nameplate with my cell phone, to jokingly show off to my family, and my brother showed me his nameplate. Which he also took a picture of with his cell. Only, the reason he took the picture was this: Instead of reading "Bob Coolbrother," it said "Bobo Coolbrother." HIL-arious!! Actually, he kind of looks like a Bobo. Like Bobo the Clown. Maybe I'll make Lexie start calling him Uncle Bobo. Of course, she would never do that. Oh well.

So the point of this post was to let you all know that I will not renege on my promise, I will post as often as I can. But now I am going to read some other people's blogs. Which I had forgotten just how much I miss and enjoy. And if I get a chance, I am going to have to update my blogroll - some of you have vanished (boo hoo!). And post a new picture. We'll see how time goes.

Hasta la vista!!

Take Me Out to the Ballgame (Then Watch Me Get Kicked Out)

As I was walking from the train to work in the balmy 7 degree Chicago temperature, I decided I would battle the cold with mind over matter, picturing myself sweating in the bleachers at Wrigley Field... and subsequently decided to share this story about my night with the RL crew at the Cubs game. Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed my evening.

It was sometime in August that I decided it would be fun to go to a Cub game in the bleachers with some fellow RL employees. I went online and saw that there were an abundance of available tickets in the bleachers for the September 5 night game against the Dodgers - and it was Derrek Lee bobblehead day, no less! - so on a wing and a prayer, I ordered 8 tickets.

The next night when I went in for my shift, I started asking around, hoping I could get the other 7 tickets sold. Turned out, it was easier than I thought - as a matter of fact, I wound up getting 8 more tickets. By the week before game night, there were 16 of us going (yes, they all paid me) and it was shaping up to be the RL event of the summer (shut up, I know September isn't technically "summer," but who cares?).

Chris approached me one night as I walked in: "DASI! So do you know the plan??"

I laughed at his enthusiasm. "No, why don't you tell me the plan, Chris?"

He looked at me seriously. "We get there REALLY REALLY early, get REALLY REALLY drunk, and sit in left field."

"Sounds like a plan," I agreed.

Now for those of you not familiar with Wrigley Field or their infamous bleachers, it should be noted that if you want good seats (and obviously left field right behind Alfonso Soriano are choice), you need to line up well before the gates open. WELLLLLL before. And the gates open two hours before the game. So I always plan on an additional two hours (at least) before that. My plan was to leave work at 12:30, get organized, and go. So Chris' plan was fine by me, although I didn't think I would be doing the whole "really really drunk" thing...

The next day, Rick approached me. "Did Chris tell you the plan?" he asked.

I reiterated Chris's plan to Rick.

"Yeah, but we're taking the train, and we're probably leaving at like 11:00," he added.

I raised my eyebrows. "You do know it's a 7:05 game, right?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yeah, but we need to start drinking early. And it's too expensive at the game."

I was pretty sure it was just as expensive at most of the Wrigleyville bars, but I said nothing. Hell, at least they were taking the train.

"So, you in?"

I laughed. "Hell, I'm not even leaving work until 12:30," I said. "But hopefully I'll be there at around 3:00 to get in line."

"You're getting in line at 3?" he asked, stunned. "We weren't going to get in line until about 5!"

I had to explain to him the whole "get in line early" thing, and promised him ( and the rest of the posse) that I would save them a place, but that they had better be there by 4:45.

One of the younger girls, Ashley, asked if she could ride with me. She didn't plan on drinking excessively, and didn't want to ride the train. I told her that would be fine, in fact, I would enjoy the company. So on game day, I left work and went home to do my ritual.

See, Rick was right about one thing: alcohol at Wrigley was expensive. So I always snuck in my own. I usually brought 6-12 water bottles methodically filled with Mike's Hard Lemonade, or Bacardi Razz, or some other clear malt beverage. Because you were allowed to bring in soft sided coolers, and any bottled non-alcoholic beverages under 1 liter. And they never checked the bottles too closely. This time, however, I spent extra time carefully filling 28 bottles - and each bottle held about 18 oz. So you do the math as to how much alcohol I was smuggling. Suffice it to say, it was a lot. I also brought about 6 regular waters, for me to chill out near the end of the game.

So anyway, I'm just about to leave, when Kelly calls.

"Dasi? It's Kelly. Look, we're on the train to the city, and Kristine and I forgot our tickets. Could you print us new ones?"

Ok. See, I could, in theory, but the problem was I had no idea what ticket numbers they had. The only solution, besides sending thm back home to get them, was to print ALL 16 tickets and match up everyone's ticket numbers in line, and give the remaining two to Kelly and Kristine. Which is what I had to do.

"Thanks, dasi!!" she said happily, as she hung up the phone.

So by now I am running a little later than I had hoped, because I had to print out all the tickets, and then I went to pick up Ashley. She was ready and waiting, thankfully, and we were on our way. I had on some classic rock music, and mentioned to her that this may not be her kind of music, but I felt like listening to it and it was, after all, my car. Her response?

"That's ok, my mom listens to it all the time too."

Gee, thanks, Ashley. She felt bad right after she said it, and kept telling me how her mom had her really, really young (like at 8 or something, I think) and I shouldn't take it the wrong way. To coin a phrase from my daughter, 'what-ever.'

We actually made it in pretty good time, and were third in line at the gates. We struck up a conversation with the guy in front of us, and told him we were expecting a pretty large group. He didn't seem to care, since he was in front of us. I mentioned my secret stash in the cooler, and he thought that was a great idea. I did, too, and figured I'd might as well imbibe as long as we were just standing around.

Then my cell rang.

"DASI?????" I heard, over the background yelling.

"Hi, Chris," I said.

"YOU THERE YET??"

"Yes, Ashley and I are third in line."

"KELLY AND KRISTINE HAVE NO TICKETS!!"

"I know," I replied. He was obviously already quite trashed, and from the background noise, whoever he was with was as well.

"SO WE'RE COMING BY NOW!!"

I didn't want to cause a scene this early - not in line. We still had an hour before the gates opened. "That's ok - wait a half hour!" I yelled into the phone.

"SO WE'LL SEE YOU IN A FEW MINUTES!"

And he hung up.

I turned to Ashley and our line buddy. "They're on their way - and they're wasted," I said with a grin.

I don't think our line buddy realized what he was in for. Suddenly Kristine and Colin were approaching, swaying together happily.

"I don't have a ticket," Kristine slurred.

"I DO!!" Colin pronounced happily. He pulled out his piece of paper. "Right here!!"

I matched up the numbers on his ticket to the ones I had. With my ticket, Ashley's, and Colin's, we only had 13 possible tickets left. This would be hell.

Kristine sat down and leaned against the wall. I had to pee, so Colin offered to go with me to the bar across the street. When we returned, Kristine was drinking a "water."

"This doesn't taste like water," she commented, "but it sure is GOOD!"

"I thought I gave her a regular water," Ashley apologized in a whisper.

I had to hush up Kristine to keep my stash a secret. No easy feat, I can assure you. And as I was doing that, the rest of the crew arrived. Well, most of them at least. And they all were in a similar state of drunkenness. I admit it was entertaining, but it was also a bit insane. Trying to get a bunch of drunk people organized is no easy feat, and we still had to figure out which two tickets Kelly and Kristine could use to get in.

It seemed that Rick was sick, and wasn't coming after all, but he gave his ticket to our old bartender Carl. Who was going to meet us there.

"And I have his ticket," Chris informed me. "So when he gets here, he will call me and I will drop it over the edge to him down on the street."

O-K. "Chris," I said carefully, "his ticket is a piece of paper. Do you really think it's a good idea to drop it over the wall?"

"Yup," he replied confidently. "He said he'll catch it."

"Why not just meet him at the gate and hand it to him?" I suggested.

Chris looked at me with amazement. "Good idea!"

Then we found out that Aggie and her husband were meeting us there once the game started, and so was Elsa. Which meant that if we picked the wrong tickets to give to Kristine and Kelly, one (or two) of them wouldn't get in. And try as we might, we couldn't reach any of them by phone.

The rest of the group didn't seem that concerned, they were too busy laughing and swaying and harassing some poor guy walking down the street to give us a sign (which, by the way, he did). Ashley and I, the only sober ones, tried to use logic to figure out the ticket numbers, and crossed our fingers as we gave Kristine and Kelly each a ticket and put away the remaining three.

"PICTURES! How about a picture for the Cubs website?" a guy stood there holding a camera, looking at our group with amusement.

There was an outcry of assent, and we posed as best as we could. This was the end result. If you look carefully, you can see Kristine's arms holding up the sign.


(That was right before the gates opened, when all was still good with the world. (And? That's me in the back with the sunglasses. I don't look like an old lady, right??) If you look on the left, you will see Colin with his arm around Nick. And they both have very cute, content smiles on their faces. I actually blew up that part of the picture, and changed Nick's shirt to say "The Joy of Colin." They both credit me with taking the gayest picture of them in the world. And? They're totally not gay. Too funny. Chris is on the right, Ashley's in the white Cubs jersey, Kelly's in the blue with the shades, and then there's Michelle and Greg. Hey, that only makes nine of us... and with four more coming, that's thirteen - oh, yeah, Dan and his girlfriend met us there too and there was one unused ticket. Ok, back to the story.)

So finally, the gates are opening. Security checks my coolers, and I am cleared to go in. We all got our bobbleheads, and those of us who were able ran up the ramps to get seats. Chris and Kristine both wiped out on the way up, and there was blood. But I don't think either of them cared too much. So we managed to get a nice block of seats right behind Alfonso, and all of a sudden, it starts to POUR. I'm talking HUGE raindrops coming down in sheets.

Did we move? Did we run for cover?? HELL NO!!!! We may have been wet, our bobbleheads may have been ruined, but we had awesome seats and we were going nowhere!!! Plus, there was still two hours to gametime, and we were sure the rain would pass.

In the meanitime, my "water" supply was being depleted. And everyone was getting drunker. Kristine lit up three different cigarettes and was told three different times by security that there was no smoking. The rest of our group arrived (and amazingly, we gave the right tickets to Kristine and Kelly so everyone got in no problem), and things got louder, and more animated, and by the time the rain stopped and the game started security was watching us all like hawks.

The Cubs were playing an amazing game, and I was loving every minute of it. I had only had two or three "waters," and had switched to real water. It was the top of the fourth inning, and I only had four "waters" left from the original 28. And that's when it happened.

A HUGE Mr. T type on steroids walked over to Michelle, Elsa, and Kristine. "Lemme see those water bottles," he growled.

I almost choked. And very nonchalantly nudged the remaining four "water" bottles under the bench I was sitting on. Next thing you know, the three of them are being led out by Mr. T.

Which was not a good thing. Colin very gallantly offered to leave as well, to go find the girls and stay with them at a bar until the game was over. No one else made a similar offer, so he went off like a drunken knight in shining armor. The rest of us just sat there somewhat meekly, a bit more mellow now that things had taken such a serious turn.
We still had fun, though, and it was an awesome game. Security kept their eyes glued on us, and it was a bit unnerving. At one point, in about the eighth inning, Nick turned to me.

"Dasi - got any more of those waters?" he asked.

I smirked. "I've got four, but they're really watching us," I warned.

"Eh, I'm ready to go anyway," he shrugged.

So I kicked a bottle his way. He picked it up, took a swig, and - "LEMME SEE THAT WATER!"
Mr. T had returned. Nick smiled, shrugged, and said "See ya, dasi!" As he handed over the bottle and strolled out followed by Mr. T.

I couldn't help but laugh.

The game ended in a win for the Cubbies, and as we all sang "Go Cubs Go" I was busily texting our outed pals trying to find out where to meet up. We managed to find them at one of the bigger bars, and there were cheers and hugs all around.

Kristine was wearing Colin's jersey, and when I inquired as to why, she launched into detail about her "wrongful ejection."

"I was so mad I just went EEEEYYYYAAAAHHHHH! And ripped my shirt right open, like the Hulk!" she said, demonstrating in the air.

"She did," Michelle said solemnly. "I thought she was going to get arrested. She yelled and ripped her shirt, but I just cried."

"So when I found her, I gave her my jersey," Colin added matter-of-factly.

Suddenly Nick came up and gave me a bear hug. "That was like the BEST game EVER!!" he said gleefully. "Thanks, dasi!!"

I was glad everyone had enjoyed themselves so thoroughly, but I looked at Ashley and motioned towards the door. I had had enough. We snuck out with hardly anyone even noticing.

And the next day at work, the night had already become legend. With another game outing planned for the next season.

Although I think I'll leave my "water" at home if I go with those crazies again.

Whiff of the Past

One of the wonderfully fun things (and I say that somewhat sarcastically) afforded me by my new job is riding the train downtown every day. Actually, it really isn't that bad on the whole, but sometimes the person sitting next to you makes the experience, shall we say, somewhat unpleasant.

This morning, for example, a woman boarded the train on the stop immediately following mine, and sat herself down right next to me, rather than the plethura of other single riders in the car. (I still haven't figured out why 90% of the time people choose ME to sit next to rather than anyone else, I think I have to work on my "don't sit by me" aura) This meant that for the next 45 minutes, I had to press myself against the wall of the train and scrunch in my elbows while I read my book. That in itself was bad enough, but then I got a whiff of her.

She was an obvious smoker, and had most certainly put out her last butt milliseconds before she boarded. Being an ex-smoker, the smell of cigarette smoke on others really bothers me. Literally gags me. I still have a hard time believing that I myself used to smell just as bad. (I would apologize to any smokers out there, but I feel I have earned the privilege of soapboxing since I quit cold turkey about four years ago.) So now as well as trying to avoid physical contact with my seatmate, I was also trying to avoid olfactory contact as well. This proved to be very difficult, as I am nursing a cold, and in order to prevent the embarrassment of nasal mucus dripping onto my lap, I had to sporadically sniff mightily. The sniffing prevented the nasal drip, but also invaded my senses with that stale cigarette smell.

After about the fifth sniff, I realized that the yukky smell wasn't only cigarettes... there was, in fact, something oddly familiar about it. Not that the smell was any less unpleasant, but it reminded me of something. I closed my eyes and reluctanty sniffed again, trying to pinpoint what it was.

Suddenly it came flooding back. The smell was that of cheap perfume mixed with the cigarettes. Could've been any perfume, really, but what it reminded me of was hanging out at a smoky corner bar. In this day and age of "smoke-free" zones, I haven't smelled that in a long time. It was a smell that used to cling to my clothes when I smoked myself and had come home from bar-hopping with friends. It was a smell that made me think of partying, and irresponsibility, and one-night stands (not that I ever had any of those, of course...). Made me think of TBOTE, as well. I can't say it was a welcome flood of memories, but regardless, there it was. The longer I closed my eyes and inhaled that nauseatingly sweet yet acrid smell, the more memories came. I almost expected to hear Kevin's voice next to me. I almost expected to open my eyes and find myself in P's again, with a Miller Lite in front of me. Or worse, at an old "buddy's" house, waiting for the pipe.

I opened my eyes again and tried to concentrate on somehow not inhaling while still preventing my nose from drippping. This was done by putting my mittened hand beneath my nose and trying to just block all air (and whatever else) from entering or leaving my nasal passages. When I snuck a look over at my seatmate, curious about the owner of this smell that caused such discontent, I almost laughed. It was a woman in probably her 50's or 60's, black short hair sprinkled with gray, wearing Harry Potter glasses and shaped like a pear. Nothing like what I expected. But still, that smell...

I can't tell you how glad I was to get off that train. Even in zero degree weather. Those kind of memories I can do without, thank you very much.

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.