Dear You

Dear You,

You broke my heart more than I ever thought possible. I loved and I tried, and I loved some more and I tried some more, but nothing ever warmed your heart once she walked in to your life. Even though you knew my history and how much I had been hurt, you still turned out to be just another guy who made me feel like I am not good enough. Why did you hurt me like that? Why couldn't you let me go a long time ago instead of being selfish and hanging on to me?

You never know what you will be missing. You think you have it all now but someday you won't, and this I can pretty much guarantee. I wonder if you will ever think of me. I wonder if you will ever realize truly what you let go. I doubt it because you are ice cold. But still a small part of me inside hopes that one day you finally get it. Of course by then it will be too late. At that point I will have my silent vindication.

Thanks to you every day is a chore. I choose sleep over enjoying life. I cry at a moment's notice, I isolate myself from everyone. Thanks to you, I question my worth to men and often wonder what is wrong with me. Thanks to you, I have this feeling of hopelessness that I cannot seem to get rid of. Thanks to you, I have been praying every day to start feeling better. I realize that I give you a lot of power, but don't worry someday I will take it back.

Someday you will be a distant memory. Someday I will think back to what it was like to be with you, and wonder why I stuck it out for so long. Someday I will think of you and wonder why I found you so attractive. Someday I will think of what it would be like to be intimate with you again and it will make me want to vomit.

I love you, but I hate you. Karma has a way of coming back around, and when it finds its way to you, I hope you think of me.

Thank you for breaking my heart.
Goodbye sweetheart....goodbye you asshole.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

I remember the day like it was yesterday. Actually I remember the day prior to that as well. I had my weekly appointment with my OBGYN doctor to determine whether or not he was going to induce labor. My due date was the following day. I was scared out of my mind. I convinced myself that not only would I go through an excruciating labor, feeling every contraction, kick, burning and squeezing this human fetus from a hole which was way too small for that shit, but I also convinced myself that I would die just after giving birth. Yes, my whole entire life I never wanted children for fear of certain and sudden death.

Secretly, I went to the doctor's office hoping he would tell me that the little creature inside me was not ready to come out, and I could host him a couple of weeks longer. I hoped, I prayed, I wished upon a star. My attempts were futile because doctor told me he would be inducing my labor on the following day. I smiled weakly, and I could have sworn I saw little devil horns on his head and fire shooting from his eyes. I knew I had a day left to live before I went straight to hell.

My mom went with me, and she came home with me, she knew I was scared. She promised to stay with me and comfort me. I soon learned that her idea of comforting me was calling up my unborn spawn's father to go out drinking to ease their nerves. Excuse me? Pregnant lady here, what do I get to do? I got to watch them drink and get plastered until I finally had enough. Luckily for me they picked a bar close enough that I could walk to. So I walked home...big, fat, pregnant and alone. I decided to take the opportunity while I was alone to write my Last Will and Testament. Only I didn't have anything of value to leave except my unborn child, so I left him to his father of course. Since that took all of 5 seconds to write, I decided to write goodbye letters to all of my loved ones. Telling them that I loved them and it was great knowing them. I think I wrote about 5 letters total. On the envelope "Please read in case of my death) and stashed them away in my drawer.

Finally I was able to go to sleep, and my mother and baby daddy came home around 5 a.m. smelling like a brewery. I think they must have intoxicated me with their fumes, because I felt super relaxed but kind of nauseous at the same time. I was to be at the hospital around 7 a.m. where they would break my water. My mom was with me, and baby daddy was in the hallway nursing his hangover.

They broke my water and it was like nothing I ever experienced before. I felt a gushing, I heard the water splash to the ground, I felt like I was in a pool. By then, my drunken mother was practically laying in the chair next to me. The doctor's and nurses avoided going anywhere near her. I don't think they wanted to assist me with my childbirth feeling as though they were under the influence.

After I stopped gushing and had my gown and sheets changed three times, my mom asked if I was ok. I wasn't, I was scared as sh*it but I didn't really feel any pain which surprised me. This was going to be easier than I thought. "Do you mind if I go home and get some sleep for a couple of hours?" my mom slurred. I wanted to say no. I wanted to punish her for leaving me alone to die on my last night on this earth. But I reluctantly said yes she could leave. I hoped that she would not get stopped by the police on the way home, because I was positive she was still very much drunk. At least she smelled like it anyway. She told me to call her whenever I needed her if the labor got to be too much. I think she figured she would have a few hours for a nice restful sleep before I called her.

Wrong.

Within 30 minutes the labor was coming on full force (or so I thought). I felt like I was getting kicked in the stomach over and over by a camel. I felt like someone was using my insides as a wet dishrag, wringing them out over and over again. I demanded that they call my mother. I wanted her there to live my last few hours of life with me, and to watch me endure the pain and suffering so that I could be viewed as a hero after my death. She came back right away, never complained but did fall asleep in the chair until my screams and cries would wake her up every so often. And then......yes then the miracle happened. They said I could have my epidural.

Oh epidural, how I love thee. I heard horror stories about how they shove the needle into your spine and how you have to be careful not to move or you could be paralyzed. And how much it hurt. Oh I heard storied about the agony. But when they came in with that giant needle, I was happier than a pig in mud. I whipped myself around on the bed, laying on my side....not caring that the gown had opened and my bear a*ss was exposed for everyone to see. I arched my back before they even instructed to. I think I even said "Put it in dammit, just jam it in!" I never felt pain, I welcomed the needle to my spine as I would welcome a bouquet of flowers on my birthday. I embraced it, I loved it. I felt no more pain. I thought to myself though, how ironic is it that I would go through a painless death? I kind of smiled to myself, thinking if I had to die this would be the way to go.

My joy was short lived though. 7 hours later, still no baby, still no death. But the epirdural was wearing off. I wanted them to jam another needle into my spine but they refused. I begged, I pleaded but they ignored me. I wanted to kick them in the teeth every time they came near me. But they assured me I needed to feel the contractions so I could begin pushing. "But I don't wanna push....can't you just pull him out? I cried. They denied me, the lazy bastards. So thus I began my pushing.

I pushed and I pushed. And then I pushed some more. Nothing. My sister-in-law was in the room with me, holding a towel on one end, and I had the other. Every time I contracted, I pulled and she pulled. It was a bloody tug-of-war and she was not going to win, I was. For an hour, I pushed......and they kept telling me as soon as I could get the head out, it would go quickly. Ok, well when the fuck is the head going to come out and how hard do I have to push? Not that I wanted to get it over and done with because remember, I still thought I was going to die while pushing...but dang it HURT. Finally my little one was making his way down and they could see his head start to come out. And man did that hurt like a sonofabitch. I was as though someone took a hot, searing butcher knife and was slicing my private region open. But I pushed and pushed, said a little prayer to God and told him I would see him soon and out came the head, man it must have been huge, I thought. As it turns out, the doctors didn't lie to me either. As soon as the head came out, his body flung out of me with one gentle push. Alas, he was here! All 8 lbs. 12 oz and 12 hours of hell.

I closed my eyes, ready to meet my maker. But as I heard the activity around me, my spawn giving that first wonderful cry and then them asking me if I wanted to hold my little boy (to which I said no, the fact that he was all bloody and covered in mucous grossed me out -- but they plopped him on my stomach anyway, the defiant fuckers) I realized that I lived. I survived! I made it! All my fears and anxiety was for nothing. I am free! I am woman, hear me roar! I am...... oh sh*it. I'm a mother now, and I have no clue what to do.

*Dedicated to my baby boy who turns 15 today! I love him!

Can't Think of a Good Title at 1:39 AM

Yes, it's 1:39 AM and I am still not asleep despite the fact that I have to take my dad to the airport at 5:30. I am going to be a walking dead person tomorrow. I've had this problem falling asleep the past few nights. Last night I couldn't get to sleep until 3:30 (what is it with the half hour b.s.?) but in my own defense (and who am I defending myself to?), I didn't have to work today because I had oral surgery today and had to take the day off. I don't like oral surgery but having the day off was a nice reward for my punishment.

Speaking of oral surgery....I now have this painful lump in my jaw near the extraction. I wonder if this is OK? I'm still tasting blood which I don't particularly enjoy because I would rather be tasting food. Real food....ya know, the kind you can chew. Today I had garlic mashed potatoes and chocolate ice cream. Which I have to be honest, was pretty good. But I ate way too many potatoes. Country Crock makes a great tub of potatoes and I ate them all. Now I feel kind of gross but between that and the ice cream I think I still stayed under my calories.

Well I'll be damned....I'm getting that sleepy feeling. I'm going to jump on it while it's still here.
And this concludes a very boring, random and useless posting for today.
Ciao

At your service

I'm the type of person that waits for a call back. When someone says "I'll call you back" doesn't that usually mean that they will call you back? It doesn't really irritate me so much when my friends do it, but when I'm involved in a "relationship" (or whatever dysfunctional friendship I'm involved in), I get annoyed when they say they will call me back and then don't. I'm not just talking a one time thing or even a once in a while thing....I'm talking about when it's a habit. When I get to the point where they say "I'll call you back" and I mutter to myself "Yeah right." It pisses me off because it's rude.

I wonder if it's because I am someone that makes herself too available to people. Whenever a person calls, I pick up most of the time unless I'm in a place where I can't. But I'm always there, day or night. People never have to worry about whether or not they are going to reach me because I'm always there. But how do I change that? How do I stop being me? It's not like me to just look at my phone, see who's calling and ignore it. How does one make themselves less available when they are always available? Maybe I should start doing the ignoring. Because being too available means being unappreciated...... apparently.

Rant over.

Regal, my ass!!

Yeah yeah I know it's been a while since I blogged. I actually had a draft from 8/27 but it was boring so I deleted it. Nobody reads these anyway so who cares? Today I am posting a story that I emailed to a friend of mine about my trip to the movies this weekend.

So it was Friday night and per usual, I had nothing to do.Well....nothing I wanted to do anyway. I really don't mind doing nothing (yes, I've gotten that lazy) but from time to time, I don't like it. I get antsy....I feel like everyone else in the world is outpartying, or spending time with loved ones, or involved in some sort of activity that keeps their ass off the couch. Everyone but me. So those are the times that I force myself to do something. I'm not one of "those" types of people that looks through the paper to see what's going on in the neighborhood or just picks an activity just to keep myself busy. I'm not that motivated. If I'm going to get off my lazy ass, I'm going to do something I enjoy.

If you've seen me lately, you've seen that I like to eat. But I wasn't about to go out by myself and have people pointing and staring and saying to their friends "Awwww, look at the fat girl eating by herself! Poor thing is so fat and lonely that she has to come to a restaurant alone because nobody will be seen with her. Awwwww" Ummmm, no. I'm not having any of that. Let them pick another fatty to examine, I say!! So the next best choice I thought, for me, was to go to the movies. I've gone to the movies alone before. It took me some courage to do it the first time. (I actually recall sitting in the theatre and when the lights were still onbefore the previews, I would look around and then look at my watch as though I were waiting for someone. I figured by the time they realized I was alone they would be too in to the movie to care.
*Note to self:They don't care anyway. You are not the center of their universe*Whatever.)

So I decided to call up my son who was at his dads house for the weekend and asked if he would be interested in seeing the movie. The only problem was, he was with his friend. This friend.......ugh. I can't stand him. He talks too much, he's too loud, he tries to hard to impress people -- usually by making up stories about how cool he is -- but worst of all......he shits himself. How old is he, you ask? He's 15. Yes 15....and he shits himself. I don't know what his problem is.....if he's got an issue where he doesn't feel the need to shit until it actually happens, or if he's just too lazy to go into the bathroom and sit on the can for a few minutes. But nonetheless, he poopies in his pants. Not only that but according to my son and his dad, the kid tries to hide the fact that he shits himself by taking his underwear off and throwing it in the corner or under the bed, hoping nobody will find it. Apparently he thinks his shit doesn't stink. His dad has told me that onnumerous occassions, he found shit balls behind the bed and in corners. So apparently the kid must have felt the urge to go but figured that the 2 foot walk to the bathroom was too much and decided to relieve himself whereever he saw fit. Anyway, I'm digressing.

So the kid was there and I reluctantly told my son that he could invite him to go along but that I couldn't pay for the kid because I didn't have enough money. I asked my son, "he's not going to shit in my car, is he?" I couldn't help it but say it like that. He reassured me that he wouldn't. Because I swear if I smelled one foul odor in my car, I was going to make him eat it. Anyway, you'll be happy to know that McShitty had no incidences while he was in my presence. Lucky for him. But there's more to the story....

We get our movie tickets and I paid for my son and I. I told him I would get the snacks because I didn't figure it would be that expensive. So, knowing that I would be starting Weight Watchers again this week, I decided to allow myself a weekend of binging - including a medium popcorn with extra butter. I ordered them a large popcorn and they each got a soda. I was excited. I couldn't wait to shove the first buttery kernel in my mouth. I ignored the fact that the popcorn was pre-scooped and already in the bag, as opposed to being freshly scooped from the machine and bagged efficiently. I like it that way better because I would ask them to butter it in the middle. The more fat, the better right? Anyway, I'm digressing again. I ignored the fact that the popcorn was already in the bag and I still couldn't wait to get to my seat so I could star tshoving it in my mouth, several kernels at a time.

The cashier gives me the popcorn and the sodas which I distributed elicately to the boys and she rings me up. I horrified when I saw the amount pop up on the cash register. $29.95!!! Even typing it now makes me throw up a little bit in my mouth. Yes, that would be $29.95 for 2 popcorns and 3 sodas. I looked at her....I think I had the deer in headlights look, with my mouth gaping open. When I shook the shock violently from my system, I said "Are you serious?" I was ready to battle. I wanted to take her head and shove it deep within the popcorn bucket, suffocating her in the buttery kernels, lodging them up her nose and in her ears. I wanted to take the sodas and start flinging them at unsuspecting movie goers and revel in their own stunned reaction. If Ihave to be shocked, so do they. I wanted to run through the mall, screaming a high pitched and blood curdling scream, informing everyone that I had just been ra*ped.

But when I saw the look of understanding in her eyes.....the one that said "I know we are charging an obscenely gross amount of money for your refreshments and I'm very sorry and embarassed to be associated with this crime" type of look. But then again, if that were the case she would have warned me against the purchase wouldn't she? Yeah, that's what I thought. I paid, fury and rage inside of me. I informed my son that he better eat his $30 worth of popcorn. He said he would....he knew he would be punished by his broke mother if he didn't. Nonetheless I got over the horror of what occurred and I got in to the movie, sat down quickly and almost violently and I savored the moment I got to shove the very expensive popcorn in my trap and I realized immediatlely as soon as the first kernel touched my palette....the popcorn tasted like shit anyway! (But not like the shit from McShitty as referenced earlier). It was cold from sitting, even the heat lamp didn't give it the warmth it deserved and there wasn't nearly enough butter on it. I wanted those little kernels to swim freely in the butter....and they were denied. They were denied and so was I.

I will never buy refreshments at a movie again. Not ever.

The HILLS are alive...

Call me whatever you want, I LOVE the show The Hills. The season 4 premiere was tonight and I have a few comments to make.

~ Audrina's voice over. When Lo came to talk to Audrina, the last thing Audrina said was "we'll never be friends." It was totally a voice over, WTF is that? What did she really say? The least MTV could have done was make her reshoot the scene to say what they wanted her to say!

~ Heidi's sister's interview was hilarious. She was asked how she felt about the way Spencer treated her when she visited. Ummm, she practically had to choke the words "He's a good guy" out. It was so obvious that she was prompted to say that. It was awkward, forced and friggin hilarious. The words "Spencer" and "good guy" do not belong in the same sentence! Hello!

~ Was it just me or did Heidi look totally uncomfortable next to Spencer during their interview? Every time he opened his mouth you could practically see her cringe and freeze up, hoping he doesn't put his foot in his mouth like usual. What she sees in this guy, I don't know!

But all in all the season looks great, even though I'm kind of irritated that we only got a 30 minute show for the premiere. Hello, you make us wait all these months and we only get a half hour? Bastards!!

I love Sailing

My father, his wife and my sister are frugal shoppers. Meaning they rarely buy anything new, are always looking for the greatest deals and would rather buy just about anything via garage sale than an actual store. (My sister actually bought a toilet seat....unwrapped.....at a garage sale once. Ew.) My stepmother searched probably about six months for a used car before she finally made her purchase.

My mother, brother and I are impulse shoppers. If we want something, we buy it. It usually doesn't matter what the price is, it's more about the fact that we want it right then and there, and nobody is going to stop us from getting it. I love being an impulse shopper, because I think you only live life once. I'm not all about waiting to find the best deal or spending hours researching something before I buy it. (Only one time in my life can I recall ever kicking myself in the ass for being an impulse shopper and that was when I bought my current piece-of-shit car. I like to refer to is as the Ford "Gas Eater" Taurus. Why didn't I stick with Toyota? WHY?)

Lately I've been kind of leaning towards being the frugal shopper because there are certain things that I just refuse to pay full price for.....like outside furniture. To get anything halfway decent, you have to spend at least a couple hundred dollars. I don't spend enough time outside to warrant that kind payment. Plus the fact that I would have to drag in the furniture once it starts snowing and that will irritate me because it would take up too much room in my already cluttered basement. So a couple of weeks ago after searching high and low for deck furniture I decided I would buy some cheap plastic table and chairs and be done with it. Thankfully, I hadn't done that yet.

Today I decided to go to garage sales for lack of anything better to do. No, I'm lying...I actually planned it because I do enjoy looking at the junk other people don't want and paying a grossly cheap cost for it. It does give me a thrill to find a good deal. And I found one today. I found a set of white wicker furniture for my deck......for $35!!








I was so excited that I sat and "guarded" my furniture at this lady's house until my dad could come to get it a half hour later. Thankfully she didn't think I was a nut job and she sat down and talked to me for a while. Hm...maybe she DID think I was a nutjob and wanted to make sure I didn't take up residence in her yard.

Anyway I'm pleased with my purchase. So pleased that I didn't even bother going to any other sales. So pleased that I'm actually blogging about it, knowing that nobody would care. I'm even more pleased that I figured out how to put pictures in my blog.


Watch out pretend readers, I'm going to start being a picture whore.

Coming Out

Is it kind of sick and twisted that I'm going to miss watching Tori & Dean's reality show? What's wrong with me? I used to be like one of millions who couldn't stand Tori Spelling, thinking she was a stuck up bitch who got her fame in acting because of her daddy. Maybe that's partially true with her 90210 role but in the beginning of that show she was a supporting character and she eventually made it a starring role.

But anyway, I'm digressing. I started watching her show a couple of seasons ago when her and hubby Dean opened the B&B and I fell in love! I fell in love with Tori who was exactly the opposite of what I thought she was. She didn't seem at all stuck up, she was settled down and married and expecting her first child. Being a mother myself, I could totally relate to what she was going through in her pregnancy. Plus she was friggin hilarious! The stuff that would come out of her mouth had me rolling.

I kept watching her seasons, practically being there for the birth of her son Liam and her daughter Stella this season and it gets me emotional to watch some of her episodes where she reflects on how wonderful her life is with her family. Just by being herself and finding happiness, she's managed to shed this awful stereotype that followed her around and she blossomed in to a sweet, kind, responsible mother. I think she's awesome! Plus I love watching her and hubby react to each other. They seem to make the perfect pair, each one of them balancing out the others strengths and weaknesses. It's really sweet to watch and the finale was this week (although we get treated to an "all access" behind-the-scenes show next week, Woo Woo!)

Anyway right now I can't beileve that I spent a whole blog talking about Tori Spelling. What is my life coming to? LOL I truly wish them the best of luck with their life together.

I'm literally falling asleep as I write this. I would say it's time to click "Publish" and call it a night.

Ciao

It's been a long time....

...since I've written in this thing, and I knew that would happen. Why, oh why can't I be consistent? I love to write and have lots to say. How hard is it to come on here once a day or even every couple of days to jot a few lines that nobody will read? This is coming from a person who is still not done completing her assignments for her semester that ended on July 3rd. Hmmmm. I would love to say that I'm busy, but I'm really not. I would love to say that I have a man that takes up most of my waking hours, but I don't. Well not really anyway. :) That brings me to my topic for today. Long distance relationships.

They suck. Well, the one I'm in sucks. And I'm trying to figure out how I can get better at it. It's funny, because two weeks ago when I started this entry I was asking myself how I could pull away from it with minimal hurt and suffering. Now I'm asking myself how I can get better at it. I'm in this "relationship" (which I put in quotes because I think it's more of a relationship then maybe he does) and I know him well enough now to know what works and what doesn't work.

What works:
~Kindness
~Understanding
~Patience
~Independence
~Consistency
~Caring
~Love

What doesn't work:
~Temper tantrums
~Threats
~Hanging up on him
~Attitude
~Sulking
~Crying

On my best days I give him all the things that work. He's a busy fella, busy with work and busy with home life. He likes to keep fairly active even if it means doing simple things like washing his car and going window shopping on the weekends. When I'm feeling good and wanting to behave, I give him all the things that work well for us. I'm kind, loving and caring. That's the way I like to be. He's also a fan of his independence (i.e. me not calling and talking to him every five minutes) and likes when I'm patient with him when he gets busy with life.

On my worst days.....well, that's a whole other story. I get cranky when I can't talk to him. I make threats about finding someone new (yeah right, I have no interest in that, so why even mention it?), I give major attitude (Him: "What's wrong?" Me: (sigh) "Nothing!"), I sulk and sometimes I cry. Although in my own defense, I do cry real tears. Lately I've been giving him everything that doesn't work. I know these are things that don't work, yet I can't stop myself and then I wonder why he often questions whether or not he would really want to try and make things work. I won't make myself sound like the only criminal here, he has ways about him too. Sometimes he gets too wrapped up in himself, he doesn't deal with drama at all. When I say "at all" I mean that literally. Like if I have something on my mind that he thinks is drama, he steers clear of it, and sometimes even avoids it. So we are both at fault.

I kind of got a wake up call last week though. There is a possibility of a new "friend" in his life. But she's long distance too. Then my mind was going a million miles a minute. I did the first thing that came natural to me and blamed him for every single wrong in our relationship. And how dare you have a friendship with another woman (who is very pretty btw) while you still have me?

Then I started thinking and being real with myself. Who would want to be around someone who has major attitude all the time? Who would be around someone that questions every single move you make? Certainly not me. So I'm kind of taking a step back and looking at my own actions and how I can improve them. I do love this man. No matter what has happened or what has been said, I love him. That being said, do I want to give him someone that he wants to avoid? Or do I want to give him the very best of me? Is my little attitude and temper tantrums when I don't get my own way, worth losing him? No.

I'll take a diet coke with that big fat dose of reality, thankyouverymuch!!

All Work and No Play...

...is good for getting stuff done! I'm in crunch mode now that the semester ends on July 11th. Today I spent a good 4 hours inside doing homework but I feel so accomplished. I got two chapters done and threw together a 5 page paper based on about a billion articles I had to read. I'm not so sure I did a good job on the paper but at this point I just want to turn my work in and get it over with already. I've got one last 10 page paper for my Economics of Crime class, a paper and a project on my book for my Journals class and oh yeah...I have to throw together a website for my HTML class. Thank god I have a friend coming over on Sunday to help me. Then I'm done. And to think, before I started taking classes again I was excited and didn't mind the idea of doing homework. Now it's making me bitter and resentful and my brain is fried.

Ok so it's 1:51 a.m. and this idiot on a motorcycle just came tearing down the street. Motorcycles are normally loud and annoying enough, but this goofball decides to rev his engine the whole way down the street. Obnoxious little punk. It's a good thing I'm up or I'd be pissed.

Tomorrow will consist of more homework and then cleaning house for my guest on Sunday. I've ignored any type of housecleaning this week in lieu of homework so it's ready for a good scrubbing.

Wow this journal is kind of boring. I suppose I could talk about the man situation but I'm not sure I'm ready for all that yet. I can type on and on for days about men. Hmph.

No Good Deed...

...goes unpunished!! At least that's the way it feels like today. I promised my friend I would help her move today. I hate moving! But she's one of my best friends and she never even asked but I wanted to help her anyway, especially since I think she did most of her stuff with only the help of her little brother.



I step outside today and it's hot and muggy. Perfect moving conditions. After getting inside my car which is blazing hot, I realize I probably should have worn my sports bra because I'm going to sweat like a pig in this heat. Whatever, I just want to get there and get it done. Thankfully, she had the help of two of her other girlfriends and so we started working.



We packed as much into all three cars that we could and headed over to her mother's house to begin unloading. Everything was going great (except for having to move her upstairs, ugh!) and we were outside taking a break. I'm really not sure how what happened next transpired, but all I can remember is that I'm standing on the steps and one of her friends was backing out of the driveway in her SUV. I see it happen, almost like it was in slow motion. I hear my friend say, "Wait! Watch the car, watch the car!" The friend driving says, "What?" And *SMACK* She backs into my car.



Sigh.



Everyone was kind of stunned, including myself. I just stood there, hoping and saying a quick prayer to God that it was a tiny dent. After inspecting it I see that it's really not that bad of a dent, she hit my drivers side back door, but the handle doesn't work. She apologized profusely and I was pretty good about it, because shit happens. She didn't do it on purpose. But then she started to get really upset because she just got on her mom's insurance and she was afraid if she told her mother, her mother would take her off. I offered to see if she wanted to just pay for the damages herself and we won't report it which she agreed to but she really doesn't have the money. I didn't want to say anything at the time either, but even though it doesn't look that bad, it's not going to be any less than $500. I felt bad for her, I felt bad for me, and felt bad because we still had to keep moving.

Today I went to a few garages to see how much the damages would be, knowing it wouldn't be less than $500 and I was right. One guy quoted $800 and he works at a large and reputable place and another guy is telling me they need to replace the door and match the paint, etc. He quoted me at $1,500 - 2,000. Ok. Why don't I just bend over and grab my ankles for you to while I'm at it? I've got one more place to check out later and basically she will decide if she wants to pay for it out-of-pocket or go through her mom's insurance.

I just want to get it over with! I really want to get rid of the tin can by the end of the year and get a Toyota. I puffy heart Toyota. I've only owned one but in the 11 years I owned it, I put hardly any money in to it. So why when it got totalled did I go out and by a FORD? Won't be making that mistake again. Man I love the Japanese.

My Almost Revenge

After staying up until 3:30 on Thursday morning and a highly irritating day yesterday (see previous blog), I didn't feel like cooking last night. I decided to get something that resembled "healthy" and chose Chinese food (Shrimp, Broccoli and steamed rice...yummmm!) which I was happy about because it's been a while since I had Chinese food. I go into the Chinese place, give them my order and was told "you wait ten minute!! I noticed two video game machines in the corner so I figured I could handle the ten minute by playing a video game. I decided to play what used to be my favorite video game several years ago, Bust It. It's the one where you shoot these colored balls up, trying to get three of the same color in a row and they pop. Love that game...

If you know me, you know I rarely carry cash or change. I'm a debit/credit card type of girl. But luckily I had some change in my purse. I pull out the quarter, insert it in the machine and get ready to play my game. I can feel the excitement brewing inside me as I pushed the Start button. But my excitement quickly faded when.....nothing happened. I pushed it again, and then pushed the coin returning, figuring it was one of those fluke things that the quarter didn't catch. Only my quarter didn't come out. I tried pushing ALL of the buttons, and nothing happened.

I told myself not to get upset, I would just tell them that the machine ate my quarter and they would give me a new one. So when little asian woman came out, I told her what happened and she proceeded to stare at the screen and then push all of the buttons. (She probably figured I was too stupid to try that on my own!) When nothing happened she looked at me, smiled and said "Sorry!" I stared at her with a am-I-missing-something? look on my face. You don't need to be sorry, I just want another quarter so I could play the game. Come on, the clock is ticking!

She saw the look on my face and called out to someone in the kitchen and started speaking Chinese really fast. I couldn't understand her of course, but I could swear I heard the words "greedy bitch" somewhere in there. But it didn't matter as long as I got my quarter. Little asian comes out and proceeds to stare at the screen and push all the buttons. Again, why didn't I think of that? Duh. When nothing happens he looks at me and says, "you call company!" and points at the number of the vendor, then walks away.

"WOW" was my response. Now he's managed to anger me. It's no longer about the quarter, it's about running a business and making the customer happy. Allowing your machine to eat my quarter and then telling me to call the vendor to retrieve the quarter is not making this customer happy.

So I'm standing there by the machine, getting more irritated by the second. (Don't forget lack of sleep and crappy work day). Then it hits me.....I'm going to get that quarter back by any means necessary. So I started plotting what I could do to make THEM lose a quarter. I looked around and saw one of those sugar containers on the corner of the counter and I conconcted an evil plan to dump out 25 cents worth of sugar on the end of the counter.

That's right. Don't. Fuck. With. Me.

I immediately started feeling better at the thought of my evil plan and even envisioned them having to sweep up the wasted sugar, knowing it was me that poured it out. Just as little Asian woman came out with my food, little Asian man also came out behind her, and sat in the chair.....right in front of the sugar container on the counter.

Dammit.

All my hopes and dreams of pulling off my little plan were gone. The only solace I took from the whole situation was when I got my $14.01 back in change from the food, they saw me put the penny in the tip jar. Ha ha, take that!

I still consider it a small victory. I hate being ripped off. :)

Don't get it TWISTED...

Since I find myself completely blog-sessed lately, I decided to start one of my own. I have been burdened with complete obsession, spending hours reading blogs. Why, I have no idea. Actually it started out being just two blogs that I read faithfully. The very first one I read came from the WW site that I frequent from time-to-time whenever I "decide" that I need to change my eating and workout habits. I read her story about how her life and it was moving enough that I decided (that's a frequently used word for me, you'll see...) that I wanted to continue reading. Then I was hooked. What makes me hooked to a blog, you ask?

I am attracted to humorous bloggers that keep me chuckling or something simple as being able to relate to their daily life. So I have three preferred blogs as of now, but I won't mention them just yet because they don't know me (guess that makes me a stalker? LOL) and I haven't asked them if I could do it, but I will.

My very first blog is taking place at work. The main reason being that today I refuse to do any work. I'm on my own personal strike. I'm also bubbling with rage at my co-worker.
Ugh if you only knew. Ok let me try to explain.

We have two secretaries here, with me being one of them (there used to be three but they decided not to hire another secretary when the last one left). Anyway the other lady is a above me, but not my boss and not really considered a "secretary" because she's more like an assistant. (Hey I work for the state, we are real big on Titles that don't mean shit!) which is fine with me. But what really bugs me is she's involved in this project that always keeps her at meetings (I especially love the lunchtime meetings which leaves me the option of either not taking a lunch, or going at 2:00 in the afternoon - which in that case I'll be lucky if I get a parking spot when I return). The meetings I can't really say anything about. But what really irritates me to no end is that she's CONSTANTLY leaving her desk to go visit with people (a.k.a. gossip). And we're not talking a few minutes, I'm talking anywhere from 1/2 hour to an hour. The other day I was so irritated at her because she left for a half hour, came back for a half hour, left again and then had the nerve to take a lunch, followed by another meeting from 2:30 - 4:00. The rage was bubbling inside me and I had to punish her with silence, because that's what I do. LOL

Another thing that irritates me.....whenever I have to leave early, she picks some time anywhere from 15-30 mins before I'm supposed to leave and she leaves her desk to go socialize. But what she likes to do is return to her desk around 5 minutes after I'm supposed to have already left. I like to make sure that by the time she returns, I have my bags on the desk, sunglasses on my head, and I'm sitting on the end of my chair, and staring at the door. For real. LOL So when she comes in, I pop up and then literally while I'm RUNNING out the door I say, I gotta go I'm late. LOL. I think she gets the point, but yet she still continues to do this.

Ok I'm done venting. Today I'm having one of those days where I'm annoyed at her. Other days I think she's great, especially when she tells me I can leave early. See, I want my cake and eat it too. Who wouldn't want to eat their cake? What.