Why I'm a Sucky Friend and HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Crystal

This is an open letter to Crystal at House of Sloth.   

Dear Crystal, 

I must confess. When you asked your interweb friends to send you large envelopes of glitter for your birthday, my first thought was, “Oh my gosh. Did she really just ask complete strangers to send her unknown powdery substances through the U.S. mail? Is she insane?”

You’ll be happy to know that I didn’t answer that question because well, glitter is sparkly, and as soon as I thought about it, my brain lost all train of thought. Instead, I thought, “Oh hell, yeah! I’m in! This is the woman who listens to my daily (read: hourly) rants and keeps me somewhat sane. I MUST SEND HER TRUCKLOADS OF GLITTER!”

SUNDAY 5:30 am
(four days before your birthday) 
While driving my son to work, I realized I forgot to buy you glitter. I knew I had to get it in the mail quickly, so what better time to go glitter shopping that 5:30 am on a Sunday?

SUNDAY 5:40 am 
Turnpike rest stops do not sell glitter. They do sell coffee. That's a good thing.

SUNDAY, 5:55 am
Although Seven Eleven Stores are open 24 hours, their clerks are not awake 24 hours.  They sleep behind the counter while pretending to read newspapers. They also get angry when you ask which aisle the glitter is in and they tell you “this is a convenience store”. Apparently glitter is not convenient.

Luckily, they do sell coffee.

SUNDAY, 6:05 am

Yeah, I was the only one there.

I've actually never been to Lowes Home Improvement Stores before, but well, it was open at an ungodly hour and I figured that glitter is pretty and people who are trying to improve their homes want pretty things.

I was wrong. Apparently people who want to improve their homes want gigantic pieces of wood, lawn tractors, BBQ grills, light bulbs, and white shower stalls.


I was getting tired and desperate, so I asked a nice elderly gentleman.

Me: "Where do you keep the glitter?"

Lowes Guy: "Glitter?"

Me: "Yes, sparkly glitter. But not vampire sparkly, just regular sparkly, please."

Lowes Guy: "I don't know that we have just glitter.....We do have some paint with glitter in it."

Me: "SCORE!"

Lowes Guy: "I'm sorry?"

Me: "Wait, how am I going to put the glitter paint in an envelope? If I pour it in, the paint will dry in the envelope and she won't be able to open it and it will ruin the entire birthday surprise!"

I left before he called security. The good news is that I bought this really awesome feather duster thing with a telescoping handle to reach 20ft. ceilings. I think the cashier saw right through me and knew I was really just buying it as a kick-ass cat toy.

Coffee.  From a vending machine. Desperate.

SUNDAY, 6:36 am
I found a beauty supply store that was open.

Short story: No glitter.

Long story: They had glitter make-up, bright pink and blue hair extensions with sparkly glitter, and glitter nail polish. I almost bought you glitter nail polish, but then I remembered that "you don't have a real job", so I figured you wouldn't have anywhere to wear it.

Which color would match your pajama pants?

The floor of the beauty supply store was made from these really fun sparkly, glittery floor tiles. I seriously thought about prying one up with a knife and mailing it to you, but I figured you already had a floor.

P.s. Suck that, Lowes. Glittery floor tiles = pretty home improvement. 

P.p.s.  I think the woman behind the beauty supply store counter saw my coffee mustache and lied when she told me they don't sell coffee.

SUNDAY, 6:55 am 
Dunkin. Coffee.
No glitter.

SUNDAY, 7:05 am 
I know you're not familiar with Ocean State Job Lot (OSJL). I think they don't have those stores in your state because you don't have an ocean.

See? That looks stupid.

OSJL is like a Big Lots. Close out merchandise, stuff nobody wanted, returned items, and seconds. Yes, I was desperate enough to try to buy you defective glitter. 

I tried to check every aisle, but I got sidetracked a bit, playing that game where you count to see which person in the store has the most teeth.

That's when I saw it - A BIRTHDAY CARD WITH GLITTER. It was perfect. It met three essential requirements:

1. Glitter.
2. It said "Happy Birthday".
3. All of the words on the card were spelled correctly. 

I bought the card and then had a celebratory coffee. WITH French Vanilla cream.

MONDAY, 8:50 am 
(three days before your birthday)
Reminder to self: buy stamps and get Crystal's card in the mail.

MONDAY, 3:50 pm
Walgreens sells stamps but you have to buy a whole book.  I knew I'd be using those stamps well into 2035 and who knows if the post office will still be around by then?

TUESDAY, 8:22 am
(two days before your birthday)
Reminder to self: buy ONE stamp and get Crystal's card in the mail.

TUESDAY, 10:36 pm
Reminder to self:  go to the post office first thing in the morning.

WEDNESDAY, 8:07 am
(one day before your birthday)

Why don't these assholes deliver stamps?

WEDNESDAY, 11:33 pm
I'm a sucky friend.

THURSDAY - NOW
(your birthday)

Here's your damn card.

 

Close-up of the glitter. 

Seriously, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!  Thank you for being a non-sucky friend :)

The Story of My Life

I have this terrible habit of paying the amount of the gas bill to the electric company when I'm paying my bills via online banking.  It's hardly *my* fault though, right?  Both company names begin with the letter "N", so who can blame me?

The good news is that THIS month, I didn't do that.  Nope, I paid the amount of the electric bill to the gas company.

Also.....

And this is the story of my life:

Scenes from a Restaurant

While eating a family dinner at a restaurant this evening, we were frustrated by the incredibly L-O-U-D party near us.  At one point, the volume went down to a dull roar and our family was able to carry on a bit of a conversation, while shouting over the table.

THE LION TAMER:  (gesturing towards my boots)  "Your boots look Elvish.  It makes me want to watch Lord of the Rings."

THE RINGMASTER:  "But Elvis sang about blue suede shoes.  Mom's boots are black suede."

THE FLYING MONKEY:   "Why would Elvis' boots have wings?"

THE CRAZY CLOWN:  "Why are we in a restaurant talking about mom's boobs?"

And that's when the restaurant suddenly became silent.

This makes perfect sense to my family.  And no, these are not my boobs.  I stole them.  Well, that sounds weird.  I don't actually steal boobs.  I just stole the image.  But I probably shouldn't admit that.  I mean, some woman took her time to model these boobs and have these shots taken and it's pretty unfair for *me* to claim them as MY boobs.  I'm sorry boob model lady!  Is there such thing as a boob copyright violation? Huh.  I'll have to look that up.

Why my children hate me

Because we are fast approaching the one year anniversary of moving into our new home, I decided today would be a good day for me to unpack our last moving box.  I was standing in our dining room holding a new picture frame when The Crazy Clown walked into the room.

The picture frame was in my left hand, while my right hand covered my mouth and nose. Apparently a lot of dust can form within a year and my eyes were all watery and I felt like I was going to sneeze.  I was also contemplating what I could do with the picture frame.  I had remembered buying it for a specific purpose, but I couldn't remember what I had planned to do with it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that The Crazy Clown was looking at me with curiosity.  And that's when I realized that he thought my sniffles and watery eyes meant I was crying!

Because I'm a really awesome parent, I could NOT pass up this opportunity to torture my child.

Me:  "Do you remember Uncle Charlie and Aunt Katie?"  (still with my hand covering my mouth)

The Crazy Clown:  "Uh....no....."

Me:  "They died before you were born."

The Crazy Clown:  "But if they died before I....."

Me:  "It was a tragic car crash."  
(my hand still covering my mouth, I began laughing so hard that my shoulders were shaking, which of course made it look like I was sad and sobbing.)

The Crazy Clown:  "Oh my.....I'm sorry.  I don't remember them."

And that's when my dear child extended his arms and walked towards me with the most loving look on his face.  He embraced me with a tender hug and then looked toward the picture frame.....

The accident was so horrific that the paramedics couldn't even pry them from the vehicle.  We had to bury the whole car.

Let it SNOW!

Feb. 2013 Snow Storm - Boston MetroWest

9am Friday	11am Friday - snow starting
2pm Friday - a few inches	4pm Friday - approx. 4 inches
8pm Friday - at least 6 inches	9am Saturday - 28 inches - (shot taken from inside the house because we were unable to open the back door)

Other Pictures

Side porch with extra tall baby gate

Many hours later, you can only see the top of the gate.

Baby gate from the front - see snow drift patterns	Hurricaine force winds
Front porch Friday morning	Front porch Friday evening
Front porch Saturday morning	Front porch Sat. morning - blue cooler under here, with a road/street in front of the house
Saturday afternoon - snow almost at kitchen windows	While we had 4-5 ft. snow drifts in some of the parking areas, our car only had a light dusting.

The Fish that Got Away

I'm not the type of parent who micro-manages.  I know too many parents who are constantly in their childrens' faces, managing every second of their day, obsessing about their appearance, and making every decision their child needs to make.  I take more of a laid-back approach, allowing my children to make choices - sometimes the wrong ones - so they can learn and grow.

The same is true for projects.  With three children, one in his senior year, I've seen my fair share of projects.  I don't micro-manage school projects either.  I'll help with ideas, buy supplies, help with research, if asked, but I don't take over the project and the ultimate product - good or bad - is up to the child.  I can't tell you how many times I have seen other children's projects - especially for science fairs - where it is 100% obvious that the parent did most, if not all of the work.  That annoys me to no end!

So now take everything I've said above and apply it to projects that involve artwork and twist it inside out and backwards and throw it in the trash.

I LOVE ART PROJECTS.  Unfortunately my children did not inherit that gene.

A few weeks ago, The Crazy Clown brought home an art project where he had to research the history of mandalas.  He had to come up with a theme for a mandala, look at examples, plan and draw a mandala, color it, write an essay about it, and present it to the class.

As soon as I saw the paperwork, I immediately got out my mandala drawing book because I have one and I am a geek like that.  Long story short:

Instead of "helping" my child, I became a complete control freak, monster parent who obsessed over the project and did the ENTIRE thing. (He chose the fish/ocean theme). 

The Crazy Clown: "Wow, Mom.  That is freaking awesome!
It's so awesome that if I turn it in, I will definitely get a F.
  My teacher knows I could never do anything like that!"

So yeah.  NO restraint when it comes to art projects.

The Crazy Clown ended up creating his own mandala.  He traced a dinner plate for the outside circle and traced a coffee mug for the inner circle.  The mug handle made the circle warped, but apparently that was ok with him.  He used a crappy blue Crayola marker to color some water and used an orange marker to make dots to represent fish.  I pretty much kicked his ass in mandala drawing.

Since you're begging, I'll post one more picture of my beautiful artwork, but then I have to go get started on the clay pot for the Ancient Islamic Artwork project.  It's due on Friday and I'm running out of time!

Can you get herpes at the grocery store?

This is the white board I keep on the side of the fridge.  When someone in our family needs something, they write it on the board.

Score: paper towels: 3, jelly: 3, glass cleaner: 2, herpes: 1

I have Cinematic Dyslexia

I'll confess.  I'm not even sure if Cinematic Dyslexia exists, but it totally should because I have it.

Last night I told my husband I wanted to watch a movie, but I couldn't remember a single detail about it.  "I can't remember the name of the movie or who is in it, but the cover has a picture of a boy on the front".  He had no idea what I meant.  He sucks.  
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0477302/

I often describe movies like this, "We should watch that funny movie we watched that one time that had that guy from the doctor show and that girl that you saw at Harvard once and it's about weird people in New York."   
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0333766/

I also completely confuse names of actors and actresses.  "We should watch that movie with Will Farrell and Jennifer Aniston.  I think it was called Spotless Sunshine". 
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0338013/

I often confuse two actors on a consistent basis.  Morgan Freeman was awesome in Jurassic Park.  Samuel L Jackson is the voice of God in all those Will Farrell movies.  One of them is in the Die Hard movies, but I have no clue which one. The other guy in the Die Hard movies was really awesome in Sixth Sense, but I didn't like him in Cheers.

And sometimes I'm really amazed at the connections I make.  We were watching that movie where that really tall guy who sings funny songs and plays with puppets was in Hawaii trying to get his girlfriend back and that girl who worked at the hotel had the exact same voice as the girl from Family Guy! And I seriously can't even give you a IMDB link for that movie.  I'm sure the movie is called "Saving Sarah Marshall" and the only thing coming up is "Saving Silverman".  I've never seen that movie, but I do see that Jack Black is in it.  I'm not a fan of his, but I did like his version of Gulliver's Travels with that girl who was in that tv show about a tv studio.  She was also a dental hygenist con artist in that movie with the guy from Friends and the guy from the Die Hard movies. So hey - Six Degrees of Separation with the paragraph above.  Yeah, me!

My husband was watching that Fox show where the entire season is 24 hours long and I couldn't believe how much that guy looked like the guy in the original MASH movie.  Turns out they're father and son!  Yeah me, again!

I also can't watch certain movies because I fixate on something about the actor.  I've tried to watch Lord of the Rings a million times, but I fixate on that short, pudgy dude.  I know he is the son of Patty Duke and every time I see him my mind plays this on a continuous loop:

"Yes, they're cousins, identical cousins and you'll find...They laugh alike, they walk alike, at times they even talk alike..."

And then I get angry because Patty and Kathy didn't walk or talk alike and anyone who thought they did, obviously was not paying attention!

Then I remind myself that I'm watching Lord of the Rings and I should pay attention to the movie, but then I think about Gandolf and he reminds me of Gargamel from the Smurfs and I wonder what ever happened to all those little rubbery Smurf figurines I had when I was a child.  My brother used a Sharpie to color Smurfette's bra-top red and I was soooo mad at him!

Then I remind myself that I'm watching Lord of the Rings and I should pay attention to the movie.  When the short, pudgy dude comes on the screen again, I wonder how he can be so short and pudgy.  I know Patty Duke used to be married to John Astin and I think that John Astin is the short, pudgy dude's father.  How the hell can he be so short and pudgy when Herman Munster was so tall?

So I think they need to develop a test for Cinematic Dyslexia.  I should call Conan O'Brien and see if he will do a segment on it.  CNN often does health-related stories and they could put it on his 360 degrees show.

Toto, Pteradactyl Cats, Tomato Salsa, and Jason

Last week I had a brilliant idea.  I recently bought this new kick-ass Ninja blender and while the thing is awesome for making smoothies, I wanted to try making something new.  Let me just say that I LOVE fresh cilantro.  I could eat it by handful.  But sometimes it needs to be mixed with something.....enter the SALSA.

When we were ordering groceries the other day, I carefully researched salsa recipes online and added the following items to my online shopping cart:

• Fresh tomatoes
• Fresh cilantro
• Limes
• Red onion
• Fresh jalapenos
• Fresh serrano peppers
• Fresh garlic

Sounds good, right?  Right!

This is totally NOT what my salsa looked like.

So while I had all the necessary ingredients, I didn't really think through my idea.  I chopped the onion in half and threw it in, threw in a whole clove of garlic and all the other fresh ingredients.....including the tomatoes.

I pressed the button on my Ninja and within seconds everything had turned into SALSA BABY FOOD!  Yeah.  I realize now that I should have chopped the tomatoes by hand.  They were complete mush.

So today I had a second chance.  I recently met a neighbor at bus stop.  Our sons ride the middle school bus together.  Jason, the father, talks about his garden a lot and first he asked me if I'd like to come to his house and see his cucumbers, (Yeah, it's not what you think....) then he asked me if I'd like some of his cucumbers (still not what you think...)

Yesterday he arrived at our house unannounced. During the work day.  While THE LION TAMER and I were working.....  He brought a bag of fresh produce from his garden.  He apologized for not having any cucumbers, but he did have fresh Roma tomatoes, fresh jalapenos, and fresh serrano peppers.

So while I was making small talk and being polite, all I could think about was SALSA.  I knew I still had onions and cilantro in the fridge, but I also knew the clock was on countdown. I had a work conference call in 30 minutes.  Would I have enough time to chop everything and get it in the fridge before the call?

I made small talk for a few more minutes and then thanked him again for the wonderful produce. I slowly started to walk toward the doorway.  Instead of following,  he proceeded to tell me about the different strains of green peppers and which ones thrive in certain soil conditions and temperatures.

I decided to be a little more direct.  I apologized and told him I had a conference call in 25 minutes.  That's when he sat down in the middle of my kitchen floor and said that my black pug dog looked a lot like Toto.  Then he cackled like a witch and said "I'm going to get you my little Pretty!"  In my dog's face.  And then he did it again.

Not to be ignored, my fawn pug went over and pawed at Jason's leg.  She wanted attention too!  Jason ignored her and cackled at the black pug again.  The fawn pug pawed again.  Jason told her that he refuses to acknowledge negative behavior.  He cackled at the black pug one last time and then turned to the fawn pug and whispered in ear ear.  I didn't really get what he was doing until he turned to me and told me that he's watched every single episode of The Dog Whisperer.

And then I was smacked in the face.  No, not by Jason.  He was incredibly sweet and harmless.  I was smacked in the face by my own lack of observation and the realization that Jason has Aspergers.

 Here I am - the mother of a child who has Aspergers, the wife of a man who *sometimes* admits he has Aspergers - and I was being a judgmental, impatient ass.

At that point, I said "to hell with the conference call".  Seriously, I said it out loud.  No one heard me though.  My husband had come in the room and he and Jason were debating the theory that cats evolved from dinosaurs - specifically Pteradactyls.  They also talked about gene mutation and virus evolution and antibiotic resistance and encephalitis and strep strains and the version of syphilis that has no cure.

For Jason

Today I finally had time to make the salsa.  And the tomatoes didn't turn to mush.  I put the large bowl in the fridge so the spices can blend together.  Tomorrow I'm going to take it to Jason's house.  He wants me to meet his wife.  I want to see if we have anything in common.

Food Producer/Packaging People are Assholes

Dear Food Producer/Packaging People -

I am writing to tell you that you suck.

Tonight I decided to make my family a special treat in my new, kick-ass Ninja Prep Professional Blender.   While my husband and I fondly remember Orange Creamsicles from our childhood, my children have never tasted them.  I was positive that there MUST be a way to replicate this smooth, tart, orange, creamy goodness in a healthy smoothie drink format, so I devised a recipe with the following ingredients:

• frozen orange juice concentrate (100% juice)
• milk
• vanilla whey protein powder
• stevia
• ice cubes
• liquid vanilla flavoring

This looks yummy, right?

So I put all the ingredients into my kick-ass Ninja blender and the result was absolutely HORRIFIC.   

*I* simply grabbed the liquid vanilla flavoring from my spice cabinet and poured a smidge (or two or three...) into the blender.

One of these things is not like the other.

Is it MY fault that two almost identically-shaped clear bottles with brown liquid were side-by-side in the cabinet with their labels facing backward?  Hardly not! 

*You* failed to label BOTH sides of the containers.

And now, because you couldn't spend that extra $.20 to label both sides, my children will basically be traumatized for life and will probably never, ever taste an Orange Creamsicle smoothie.  Way to go, assholes!

Yeah, I did.

A glimpse inside my kitchen

What should I be when I grow up?

When I started college, my major was Speech Pathology, but I didn't like that and I switched to Psychology.  But I had a habit of taking courses that weren't actually on my career track.  If it was new and interesting, I had to take it. Entomology - fun!  Psychology of Death & Dying - fascinating! The Study of Women's Sexuality - interesting!  The English Bible as Literature - what the hell was I thinking?

After six years in college (yes, six) my adviser told me I was never going to get a degree unless I followed a certain track. So while I no longer had any interest in psychology, I followed his advice and ended up with a BA in Psychology with a minor in English.  And no career goals.

I went through a series of jobs then - cashier, cashier, cashier, and annoying person who calls you and tries to convince you to do a phone survey.  And then the job after that was mommyhoood.  I don't think my salary was market value there.

Then this really neat thing called "the internet" appeared. And I was determined to be a part of it.  I bought an HTML book and a copy of Front Page and I was off!  I learned, coded, learned, coded, and learned some more. And then I started building websites for friends.  And then for businesses.  And I added flashy graphics that were cool and blinky.  (It was 1996, people!)  I designed websites for about two years and I was a damn good designer, I just had a really hard time with the business end - I always volunteered to do things for free!

Then I decided I wanted to work with people, not computers.  And I decided to go back to school and get my certification in hypnotherapy.  Yes......you are getting veeeeery sleeeeepy!  I found a great instructor who took me under her wing and taught me so much!  She shared everything she knew with me, sent me to conferences, shared her research with me, let me work with her clients, and really trained me well.  So I decided to open my own private practice.  And that went really well, except for the business part.  I always volunteered to do therapy for free!

Then I decided that the thing I really liked the most about hypnotherapy was writing scripts for different psychological and physical conditions.  So I wrote over 50 different scripts and asked my instructor to read them and give me feedback.  She was more than happy to do so because we were so tight.  And then she stole them all and published them as a book.

Then I realized that my passion was really in writing, so I went back to school and took writing classes - fiction, children's literature, copywriting, technical writing - lots and lots of writing.

And then I landed a job with an educational publishing house and I wrote educational children's stories and copy-edited books and collected submissions for anthologies.  Then one day I pointed out a typo on their website.  And then another.  And another.  And then they asked me to fix them.  And then they asked me to make a page look better.  Then they asked me to redesign the whole site.  And I did.  And then the publishing company went under.

And then it was 1999 and it was the big .com boom.  And when I put my resume online, people called me and offered me outrageous amounts of money and big signing bonuses.  And I accepted a technical project manager job with a start-up company that created websites for child care centers and pediatricians.  And I loved the people I worked with and I loved all the venture capital money we wasted on $150 bar stools for the break room and $80 bottles of designer perfumes for in the women's bathroom.  When I started there, I was a technical project manger - responsible for scheduling, etc.  But in a start-up, you roll up your sleeves and do what is need to be done even if it isn't part of your job.  So that's what I did.  And during my time there, I wore many hats. And as the company grew and reorganized, I had many job titles.

I quickly moved away from just project management and was involved in many hands-on roles: I performed QA and reported bugs, I designed pages, I did UI testing with focus groups, I wrote requirements docs for new products, I wrote functional specifications, I wrote web copy, I managed teams, I copy-edited, I answered customer support calls, I researched competitors, I studied the market, I approved marketing materials, I coded new pages, I ordered pizza, and I cried when the company suffered the .com fate and went under.

Then I became a teacher.  To my own children.  I learned all about educational concepts and learning styles and teaching styles and curriculum and I researched and I learned and I made lesson plans and I homeschooled my children.  For many years.  And I did it for free.

Then we moved to another state and I did some online jobs in writing and web design, but I was lonely and didn't know anyone so I decided to get a job outside the house.  And I started working as a technical writer for a social science research firm.  And I read 200 and 300-page social science research final reports for government contracts with the US Dept of Education and The EPA and The DCD and The Dept of Homeland Security and if I tell you anything more, I would have to kill you, and I summarized the reports into 300 word marketing briefs for on the company website.  And I started pointing out bugs on the site and ways things could be enhanced and I started doing QA's job for them and then they asked me to fix their site and I did and I made it better and they loved me.  And then they asked me to redesign the corporate intranet and I did.  And while I was there, they asked me to post a job opening on Craigslist and while I was on Craigslist, I saw a post from a man who was looking for homeschool bloggers.  And I responded to him.

And he emailed me back a rambling 10 pages of blogging ideas with absolutely no cohesive thoughts and I wrote back and told him he needed a copy-editor and he hired me and I worked for him for the next 4 years.  I started copyediting his work and gave him ideas and he asked me to take a look at his new website and I told him it sucked.  He asked me to interview web development companies with him and I ended up managing the development team and hiring writers and managing a team of 30 people as the Director of Operations.  And he took me under his wing and taught me all about business development and business plans and goals and marketing and metrics and SEO and affiliate advertising.   And when he asked me if I knew how to do something, I said no, but I will learn how.  And I did.  And I researched and read and watched videos and taught myself.  And I managed people and consulted with experts and designed blogs and researched social media practices and performed QA and created web tours and coded new sites and coded new blogs and learned more about online elementary education and guest starred on radio shows.  And then he got a new job and was running out of money and asked his friend if she was interested in hiring me.

And she said yes.  And she asked me to do research for her.  And I offered ideas and suggestions and offered more help.  And she took me under her wing and taught me all about the wholesale trade industry and ecommerce.  And I designed a wholesale website and helped maintain an ecommerce site and wrote marketing copy and planned campaigns and did social media.  And I researched best practices and implemented them.  And then I decided to take more classes and learned graphic design principles and brushed up on my html skills and learned Illustrator and learned InDesign and learned how to use Photoshop to fake people into thinking I'm not colorblind and I can see colors.

And she sent me to ecommerce conferences and taught me all about email marketing and list management and segmentation and campaign planning.  And I designed a million and one emails.  And then the company changed focus and my role was more on the business development side and I worked with some large companies that sell lots of things.  And then I decided that I make a horrible salesperson because I always give my own time away for free and I paid sticker price for a used car I bought once because I didn't want to negotiate with the salesperson.  And I said I was done with business development and sales and I can only design weekly emails.

And now it's today.  And I don't know what I want to be when I grow up.  

And when I try to figure it out, my brain hurts.   And it refuses to turn off when the work day is done.  And I get mad when people are excited because the weekend is here because my brain is still working - thinking of ideas, finding improvements, planning for the next phase, making recommendations, figuring out issues.  And my brain never stops.

And right now, I think the ideal job is to pack boxes onto a UPS truck.  Because it doesn't require a lot of thinking.  But I know I would eventually tell them what is wrong with their system and offer suggestions and make improvements and then they'd ask me to manage something and re-design something and implement new policies and I'd be back where I started.


So if you've made it this far, please tell me.  What should I be when I grow up?

Best Birthday Gift Ever!

Last week I celebrated my 22nd birthday (seriously, shut up).  On the day of my birthday, THE CRAZY CLOWN and THE FLYING MONKEY decided they wanted to walk to the local pharmacy and buy me a gift.

As they were preparing to go to the store, they started asking me all sorts of questions about what I wanted for my birthday, what kinds of things I like, my favorite color, etc.  They were very excited about buying something for me.  Knowing that their options were limited at the pharmacy, I gave them a not-so-subtle hint that I could really use some sort of container to hold my pens and pencils on my desk.  I figured this would give them many options - school supply box, pencil pouch, coffee mug - even a small flower pot would work.

And here is my beautiful gift:


They said they couldn't find anything special enough for me, so they decided to make something on their own.

They bought a bottle of Smart Water to use as the container.  Apparently they planned to drink the water on the way home, but THE FLYING MONKEY was complaining that he was hot and THE CRAZY CLOWN decided that dumping the entire bottle of water on THE (unsuspecting) FLYING MONKEY in the store parking lot would cool him down.  I'm told that this entertained the other store patrons, so there are definitely some bonus points there.

Then they came home and decorated the water bottle, using something that represented each member of the family:

• Limited Edition My Little Pony figure - THE FLYING MONKEY is a closet Brony.  I was  completely touched that he sacrificed his favorite figure for me. (note: he has since told me that I need to give it back in a week...)
• 3 packets of Splenda - THE CRAZY CLOWN has discovered that he loves Splenda.  On everything.  He even put 2 packets on the peanut butter on top of his turkey avocado bacon sub the other day.
• A piece of cardboard - They wanted a piece of cardboard to represent the cardboard boxes that our kitten, THE LION CUB, loves to play in.  We had just taken the recycling out and didn't have any spare boxes, so they decided the best thing to do was to cut a piece from the box where I keep our family photos.... seriously.
• A penny - THE LION TAMER gave them a penny earlier in the day and told them to "invest it wisely".  Apparently *I* am a wise investment :)
• Black electrical tape - They went into THE RINGMASTER'S room, but they were afraid to go in too far - or to touch anything.  So they grabbed the first thing they saw.  They admit they're aren't even sure if THE RINGMASTER likes black electrical tape, but it was in close enough range for them to grab it and run.
• A Milk Bone dog treat - They tried to tape a dog treat on the gift to represent THE BEARDED LADY and THE HUMAN PIG, our pug dogs, but they had to take it off because the dogs kept trying to eat my gift.

 Best birthday gift ever!!!

I am a HERO

--well, at least I'm a hero in my own mind--

When I was a child, I was considered "shy", painfully shy. It wasn't that I was afraid to talk to people.  And it wasn't that I didn't have anything to say.  Believe me, I had plenty to say!  It's just that I was worried that if I said what was truly on my mind, I'd end up in some sort of group home.

What?  Well...yeah....  I've always had these weird thoughts and ideas in my head that I never express out loud. (Btw, the voices stopped when I hit puberty. Apparently I traded the voices for the monthly curse. I'd really like the voices back, please.)

When I went to college, I began experimenting with expressing some of the weird thoughts I had.  I became known as "the quirky girl" and landed a spot in a sorority.  Go figure.

I also have this thing where I act out certain situations in my head.  Daydreaming?  Call it what you will, but I always end up being the hero.

Weird, I know.  Psychologists would have a field day with me.  But I've rescued people from burning buildings, stopped run-away strollers from plunging into oncoming traffic, reunited dogs with their owners, helped deliver babies - you name it.  I'm a hero.  At least in my own mind...

It even happened this morning.  I was taking a bag out to the curb because today is trash pick-up day.  As I was rounding the corner, I saw this guy who visits us every Monday.  He rides an old 10-speed bike with his clothing and personal possessions hanging from Walmart bags on the handlebars.  He visits all the recycling bins and takes the deposit-worthy cans and bottles and returns them for 5 cents each.

When I saw the guy at our bins, I waited and hid behind the corner of the house and watched him.  I expected him to grab some cans and continue on to the neighbor's bin, but instead I watched as he opened one of our trash bags and fished out an old piece of pizza.  And took a bite.

And then I became a HERO....

I ran forward and said, "NO!  Wait!  I have some fresh pizza in the house.  We just ordered it last night.  Now, I'm not sure if you like Brazillian pizza - I don't because they put this gooey white cheese on it that looks and tastes like cream cheese but they insist on calling it something I can't pronounce and they put hard-boiled eggs on absolutely everything and I'm deathly allergic to egg whites, and oh my.....Next time you go through the trash, please be careful sir, because I threw away an epi-pen not too long ago and I sometimes have to test my blood sugar because...well, I'm old and borderline diabetic and I totally wouldn't want you to get pricked by a needle."

And then I went in the house and got the homeless man some fresh pizza and he didn't get salmonella or botulism or intestinal parasites or anything.  And I was a hero.

The pizza I gave the homeless man.  Except ours didn't have onions.  And it had green olives instead of black.  And it had five pieces missing.  And it was in a cardboard box and not on a wood board.  Otherwise, exactly the same.

But really, I just stood there and watched him eat and when he looked up at me, I bent over and pretended to tie my shoe, but I wasn't wearing any shoes and I should probably schedule an appointment to get a tetanus shot since I'm walking on a porch with rusty nails holding together boards from 1915.

And then I said a prayer that the homeless man won't get salmonella, botulism, or intestinal parasites or anything bad and I swore to myself that I would start putting left-over food into goodie bags so it won't be contaminated by other trash.  The End.

P.S. If you all promise not to band together and commit me, I'll share more of my hero stories in the future.  The time where I stopped a man from putting poison in a girl's Dunkin while she was getting money from the atm is a classic that you won't want to miss.

Tom from Home Security

<ringing phone>

Me:  Hello?

Phone:  Good morning!  This is Tom from Home Security.  How are you today?

Me:  Hi Tom. I’m fine, thanks for asking.

Tom:  That’s great to hear.  I was calling to see if you’re aware that the number of home burglaries in your area has increased by 7% in the last year.

Me:  Actually, I was aware of that.  I just read about it in our local newspaper.  I also read that our teacher’s union just submitted a vote of no confidence for our superintendent.  Were you aware of that?

<silence>

Tom:  Uhm.....no.  I wasn’t aware of that.

Me:  Well, you should be, Tom.  I mean, this is pretty serious.

Tom:  Right, I agree.....  Actually, I was calling today to let you know that we’re offering a 20% discount on home security systems for homeowners in your area.

Me:  I thought you were calling to let me know about the increase in burglaries in my area?

Tom:  Right, well....that too.  It’s why we’re offering a discount on our home protection services.  

Me:   Is this the part where you tell me I can buy a home protection system for 52 monthly payments of only $39.99 and then I find out all you really sold me was a sticker that says “this home is protected by....” to put in my window?

<silence>

Tom:  Oh, definitely not, Mam.  I think you will find that our system is quite reasonably priced and we offer a full home protection security system.

Me:  But do you have a sticker?

Tom:  I’d have to check with my supervisor on that, but if you bought one of our systems, I’m sure we could make a sticker for you.
 
Me:  I just want the sticker.  How much is that?

Tom:  I’m sorry Mam, but we don’t offer a package that only includes the sticker.

Me:  Well, do you know where I can buy a sticker?  I already checked Walmart and....well, let’s just say that it ended with me meeting the Walmart security team and they didn’t
want to talk about stickers...

Tom:  Oh.  Uhm....I’m sorry to hear that.  I’m afraid I don’t know where you can buy a sticker....

Me:  Tom, are you suggesting that I steal a sticker from a neighbor’s house?  I thought you were in the home protection business?

Tom:  Uhh...I am, Mam and I was definitely not suggesting that.

Tom from Home Security.  -- or at least this is what he looks like in *my* mind.  I had to go with this one.  The other version was an old guy sitting at home in his coffee-stained wife-beater, trimming his nose hair while cold-calling people and frightening them into buying home protection systems.  I know you didn't want a visual of that.  You're welcome.

 

Tom:  Let me ask you another question.  Do you feel safe in your own home?

Me:  No.

Tom:  And wouldn’t it feel nice to know that you’re protected in your own home?

Me:    Oh, yes.  That would feel wonderful.

Tom:  With our home protection system, you would have peace of mind knowing that you are safe and secure in your own home and no one can get in without your permission.

Me:  Getting in isn’t the problem.  They’re already here.

Tom:  I’m sorry?  Is there already an intruder in your home?

Me:  I guess that depends on how you define “intruder”.

Tom:  Uhhhmm....are there people in your home that you don’t want to be there?

Me:  Oh yes.  Definitely.

Tom: <panicky voice>  Have you alerted the authorities about this?  <more panicky voice>  Do you need me to call someone and report this?

Me:  I’ve already tried. The police won’t do anything.

<silence>

Tom:   I’m not sure I understand.  There are intruders in your home and the police will not help you?

Me:  No, I didn’t say they were intruders.  I said they were people in my home that I don’t want here.

Tom:  <sigh>  So is this like a domestic issue?  Like an issue with a spouse or something?

Me:  No, definitely not.  I like my husband.  Well, not so much today because he ate a can of Chef Boyardee and put the can in the trash instead of the recycling and I told him I didn’t like him because he doesn’t like our planet.  And he was all “Yeah, but the recycling bin smells bad” and I was all “Well, that’s because you need to RINSE the cans before you put them in the bin.”  

Do  you rinse your cans, Tom?

Tom:  Uhh...yes.  I do.

Me:  Good, because smelly cans are the worst.

Tom:  I agree...  So back to the unwelcome people in your home....Have you called anyone else to help you?

Me:  Yes, I called TAPS, but they put me on a waiting list.

Tom:  TAPS?

Me:  I guess you don’t watch Scfy?

Tom:  Scfy like the tv station????

Me:  Yeah, I was pretty pissed when they changed the name too.  I mean, SciFi was totally fine.  But they had to go and be all cool and add that Y in there to make it look all technical and be like “Oh, look at us!  We have a Y in our name so we must be all hip and everything.”

Tom:  So you called a tv station?

Me:  No, Tom.  That would be silly!  I called the guys from TAPS on the tv station.  You know, the TAPs Ghosthunters?

Tom:  Wait a minute.....are you telling me the intruders in your home are ghosts?

Me:  No, Tom, we’ve been over this before.  Were you not listening?  I said they’re NOT intruders.  I mean really, they’ve been in my house for centuries.  I guess you could technically say that I’m the intruder.  They were here first.

Tom:  Is this a joke?

Me:  Why would I joke about something like this?  So are you going to help me out or what?

Tom:  I’m afraid to say we don’t deal with ghosts.

Me:  Actually, they prefer to be called ‘entities’ or ‘spirits’.  The whole ‘ghost’ thing went out with Casper.

Tom:  Ok.....I’m afraid we don’t deal with ‘entities’ or ‘spirits’.

Me:  Bummer!  Ok.  I guess I’ll have to wait for TAPS to get back to me then.  

Tom:  Right, uhhh.. good luck with that.

Me:  Thanks.  So are you still going to send me a sticker?

<click>