Showing posts with label I'm a moron. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I'm a moron. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Feelings Are STUPID.

I don't trust people very easily.  I'm very trusting, but I don't put my actual trust in many people.  Does that make sense?  I believe people when they tell me shit (almost too much, I'm super gullible), but I don't really tell a lot of people my shit...especially about my feelings. I'll fill out all the stupid Facebook memes you want and update my status 9 times a day, I'll give vague answers to questions via email, or empathize with an employee by using personal anecdotes, but I won't really talk about anything important or how I feel.  I'll tell you what I did or what I said, but rarely how I feel.  Hell, this here fancy blog is the closest I've ever come to talking about stuff that really matters to me and even then I mostly dance around it, because now I'm all self-conscious since I "know" a bunch of you.  There are only a handful of people that I've really opened up to in my life...a handful in MY LIFE and I'm 40, so, you do the math.  I've been deeply hurt by almost all of them.  Sometimes it's something egregious and unforgivable and sometimes it's just the realization that they're not the person I thought they were.  Both scenarios hurt like a sonofabitch and send me to bed with stomach aches and a giant lump in my throat. 

I have a stomach ache and a lump in my throat.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Umm, Hey There Wednesday...

Noooo, I totally didn't forget you!  How could you think such a thing?

(Pssst, you guys, I totally forgot about Wednesday!)

I didn't write up anything last night, like I normally do, and I will be going out after work to meet up with the HR ladies, so I won't be able to do it later.  So, yeah, um, I'm at work, not having Veteran's Day off, because my company *obviously* hates America and trying to write a blog post while I'm trying to pretend to do work and not get fired, so you guys are kind of on your own today.  Talk amongst yourselves. 

Here are a few good things going on with me, so there's NO whining from this lady today!

  • I made a giant pot of chili, so I have leftovers for days - awesome!  I also made a spaghetti squish, so that'll feed me with chicken or with vegetables or in Chinese food or just a bowl of squish!  I don't remember if I posted it here or if it was on Facebook, but I told Cindy to nuke the spaghetti squash for a few minutes to make it easier to cut - yeah, don't do that.  I've done it that way a couple of times and it makes it kinda' mushy/slimyish.  I recommend doing it the old fashioned way and risking loss of fingers and/or hands by trying to cut the damn, hard thing. It'll make you appreciate it more if you have to bleed work for it.  This is one time the internet wasn't helpful for me.
  •  GLEE! is back on tonight!  Oh Finn and Puck, how I love your pretty faces and voices.  Glee, glee, glee, GLEE!!!
  •  Every time I walk by my living room I see the beautiful, fuzzy, warm blanket (infused with LOVE) that Sarina made 'specially for me and it makes me all gooey and happy & I have to stop and pet it.  For real, you guys, I don't know if you understand how much this blanket means to me.  Sarina does NOT enjoy working and she did actual WORK on this blanket.  I loves it!
  •  And finally, one of my employees has to get rabies shots because a raccoon sneaked into her house through the roof and she woke up with its PAW IN HER MOUTH!!!  So, I think that all things considered, I have nothing to complain about and frankly, neither do any of you unless YOU woke up with a raccoon's PAW IN YOUR MOUTH!
So, other than that whole raccoon thing, what other good stuff do you guys have  going on?  Anything you're excited about or looking forward to?  Any stories about waking up with things in your mouth? 

Happy No Whining Wednesday!!

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Life: You're Doing it Wrong

So, here's a little entry that's not the SEX story I promised. I'll do it eventually, I swear!

Ok, so, Sarina and I were talking the other night about how flawed the interview process is. (*ahem* Please allow me to submit Exhibit 13...) We started talking about interview questions we've asked & have been asked when trying to get an applicant to open up & reveal their true personality. The weirdest, but maybe the best, interview question that was ever asked of me was:

If you were on the cover of any magazine, what magazine would it be and what would the headline read?

I don't remember what my answer was. I know I said the magazine would be "People", but I can't for the life of me remember what I said for the headline. I just remember PANICKING because I figured that they wanted to see if you'd say something like, "Time: Woman of the Year" or "Entrepreneur: 30 Millionaires Under 30" or something work-related and emphasizing my super work ethic, but of course, my brain is thinking, "Cat Fancy - How to Keep Your Fuzzy Buddy Happy!" or something equally retarded.

So, I ask you. If you were in an interview tomorrow and the question were posed to you, how would you answer it?

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

A Hodgepodge of Blah

Few things going on. Nothing really worthy of its own entry, so I'm just going to cram 'em all into one.

First up - Thirteen is sucking my will to live. Here's a tip, never hire someone based primarily on the tv shows they watch. (Turns out you can love both "The Office" AND be obsessed with "Twilight" & Edward Cullen. Who knew?) Ok, that's not really fair. *Anyone* in this position would annoy me, while they're training, because I'm terribly impatient and not good at hiding it. BUT, when I tell someone repeatedly to take notes about something I'm teaching them and then I tell them repeatedly to use said notes for future reference, I get peeved when they completely ignore this & continue to repeatedly ask me the same question. Also, I took a vacation day today. Our boss and other co-workers are still in the office. I didn't leave her completely on her own. I told Thirteen that she could call me if she had questions. Evidently, she thinks far more literally than I do, because she's called me for every question that has popped into her head today and also to tell me her aunt's dog died last night & she's sad. She called to ask me why her computer screen is turning green when she tries to quit a program. She called to ask me if she should have an applicant take a test. She called to ask me what she should do with an application I put on her desk last night. (I put a note on the application; it said, "Give to Deb W. Ask her to call the applicant to do a phone interview".) Then she called me back to ask me where Deb sits. Dude, that's not exactly what I meant when I said call if you have questions. Whatever, I'll eat that mistake. Live and learn.

Next - I got my hair straightened last night and it went, to put it mildly, horribly wrong. I get my hair straightened every 3 or 4 months and it normally comes out just dandy. For the record and at the risk of sounding terribly conceited, I have great hair. However, it's neither curly nor straight and it's not technically wavy either. It's more bumpy. It holds curl beautifully and it straightens nicely as well. It was damn near perfect in the '80's when big hair was all the rage. In the summer, the humidity makes it frizzy and knotted underneath and it takes entirely too much effort to maintain it for work, so I get it chemically straightened. For whatever reason, the lady I've been going to for 10 years decided to do it differently than she normally does and now...well, now it's just wretched. It looks like Hat Head. Like I've been wearing a knit cap pulled tightly over my crown for approximately 37 days and now I've taken it off. My hair is FAH-LAT smooshed against my skull at the top and then hangs straight and full at the bottom, so to say it looks rather like a pyramid would not be untrue. I paid $112 for this look that I could have achieved by wearing a do rag & using a flat iron.

And finally - something's wrong with my brain. I don't talk about this, to anyone, but I'm going through a really rough patch lately because I can't get this jerk out of my head. I hate myself for loving him and I hate myself for missing him and I hate myself for being a douchey, crybaby girl, but the fact of the matter is, he was my best friend and I miss him. Every day. It doesn't go away. It doesn't hurt less. It's not getting better. My heart aches & I get a lump in my throat every single day because every single day I want to talk to him. He has a starring role in most of my dreams and I hate that I wake up every morning and the first thing I think of is him. I want him to make me laugh and I want to know how he is and I want to be able to have a friendship with him and it makes me SO angry & sad that I can't. Balls.

Since I hate ending things on a total downer, I'm sharing this little tidbit with you. I recently installed a Stat Counter because I was curious as to how people wind up here. Not surprisingly, most of you are from Pajiba or Facebook (and since the only people I have on Facebook are from Pajiba, basically you're all pretty much here from Pajiba). However, sometimes folks get here by way of Google and the shit they're searching for is HI-larious! Below are some actual search phrases that led them to this here fancy blog. Please to enjoy!

"opposite of exciting" - Okay, 3 different people searched for that and wound up here. C'mon that's just funny!

But these just baffle me:
"mom jerking daddy off"
"moms and me or two guys"
"Bang My Step Mom"
"mom told me that it is good for girly boy to suck cock"
"Mom busted boys in jerking contest on the stairs"

Welcome visitors with sexual mommy issues! Pull up a chair and stay for a while. We love new people!

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Decisions, Decisions...

I have nothing going on. Nothing to post about. BUT, I know that you guys are probably just dying to know what’s going on with me. I’m sure you’re furiously emailing each other going, “where’s Lainey? What’s she doing? What’s going on in her life? I NEED TO KNOW! I NEEEEEEEED TO KNOW, DAMMIT!”

Settle down, lovelies, it’s ok. Shhh, *stroking your hair* it’s ok. I’m here now.

I finally got my taste buds back. YAY. But now, because I simply cannot live without conflict and self-created drama, I can’t decide what to eat. This happens almost every day. I have too many choices. I will probably end up eating a handful of peanuts and microwave popcorn because I simply cannot choose between all of the wonderful food in my kitchen. Here are my choices:

Homemade chili and naan
Freakin’ AWESOME pasta salad with chicken
Chicken with mashed potatoes, cauliflower, asparagus and edemame
Chicken with sweet potatoes, cauliflower, and cranberry orange sauce
Turkey sausage & pierogies and applesauce
Spaghetti, garlic bread and salad
Eggs, turkey sausage, toast and half an orange and some blueberries
Leftover pizza
Grilled cheese, sweet potato fries and an apple
Shrimp, wild rice and asparagus
Crab legs, baked potato, cauliflower and edemame
Black bean soup and naan
Hard-boiled egg, string cheese, crackers, hummus, and an orange
Special K Blueberry cereal (which is good, but doesn’t taste like blueberries. Tastes like purple.)

PLUS, I can’t decide what to drink. Should I have Diet Coke with Splenda? Diet Barq’s? Orange juice? Grape juice? Lemonade? Diet Pepsi? Plain water? Protein water? AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGH! I could have had a V8!

My wee brain cannot make a decision. All of these delicious foods are in my refrigerator or pantry right now. It’s not a matter of which would take longer to make or what one is healthier than the other. I simply can’t decide. This happens almost every day. Seriously. It’s really bad. Sometimes, I just go to bed without eating because I literally can’t choose. And then sometimes, I just say, “fuck it” and go to Chipotle.

I have little doubt that you’re thinking, “You’re a dick. If this is your biggest problem in life, you need to shut the hell up. People are starving in other parts of the world.” I know. I realize how unbelievably lucky I am and I’m truly grateful. I don’t mean for this to come off as whining or “oh woe is me, I can’t decide what to shove in my fat little face today. Wahhhhhhhh!” I’m just putting it out there as more of an example of what a freak I am.

Also, I believe careful readers will notice that motherfucking pine nuts are not included in any of the above menu options. Fucking pine nuts.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Lazy, Lazy, Lazy, Lazy, Lazy, Lazy, Lainey...


Do you guys remember that Shel Silverstein poem? My name should have been Jane.

I may have outlazied myself tonight. I needed to iron the sleeves and collar of the blouse I plan to wear tomorrow. I tried spraying them with water and smoothing them out, but that didn't seem to help. I looked through the closet for a sweater to wear over it, but that didn't work out so well. So, rather than just get out the ironing board, I attempted to iron the sleeves on the lid of my toilet. It worked okaaay, not great. I don't know that it was worth the hassle and it probably would have been less energy and time expended if I'd have just set up the damn ironing board in the first place. *sigh* Live and learn. Live and learn.

So, this made me curious. What's the laziest thing you've ever done? I'd like to make a contest out of it. There probably won't be a prize or anything, because hello? Lazy. But, I'd really like to a) feel slightly better about myself and b) pick up some useful tips to supplement my laziness.

I'll throw one out that isn't mine. My friend Ann MaRetard once dressed her infant in layers. She reasoned that this way, when the baby urped throughout the day, she could just remove a layer of clothing rather than redressing the kid several times. I thought it was brilliant. Her husband wasn't as impressed.

Ok - GO! Dazzle me!

Monday, March 2, 2009

Next I'll Be Writing About Ben Gay...

So, today I'm all sore. Sore and bruised.

And NO, it's not 'cause I'm a big ol' slutty hoo-er. I AM a big ol' slutty hoo-er, but I'm sore and bruised because I am a spaz.

Last night, in an effort to be lazier than lazy, I tried to reach something in the back of my refrigerator. Instead of simply removing the items in the front and then getting what I wanted from the back, I tried to finagle and maneuver around the shit in the front and in the process knocked a giant jar of apricot jam off the shelf and onto the top of my foot. And now the top of my tiny foot and the base of my big toe (which, by the way, is a misnomer; my big toe is actually wee) have this lovely dark purple bruise and it really rather hurts. Not bad enough to go have it x-rayed (x-ray'd? x-rayd? x-rayed {no, Microsoft Word, not x-rated, but thanks for the help!}), but enough for me to whine about it like a giant baby.

Oh and I am sore and bruised from being a Trampy Von Trollopstein. Helpful tip for all you ladies out there (and Jeremy). Stubble burn hurts. Whether it's on your face or elsewhere. You know what helps? Preparation H. Swear to God. Makes the burn and swelling go away like instantly. So, if your gentleman caller friend has a bit of stubble and your delicate bits are irritated, you can just fix it in a jiffy. (Helps with your own special valley razor burn, too.) You'll smell like an old lady with hemorrhoids, BUT, you'll feel better.

You're welcome.

Thursday, November 27, 2008

Melancholy Moment

This isn't my normal kind of post, not that I really have a regular type of post. Shit, I haven't even updated this thing in 2 months, but it's screaming in my head to come out. I'll probably delete it later, but I thought I'd get it out for now. The holidays suck for me normally, but this year, they seem to suck a tidge more. I'm really hoping this malaise doesn't last until January.

I don’t know why I still love him. He’s a shit person. He never really loved me and he subtly (and sometimes, not so subtly), never let me forget it. He made me feel bad about myself without ever saying a word. He was killing time with me and I knew it. I wanted it to be different, but it wasn’t and it never would be. And yet, I still love him. I still miss him. I still want him back. What the fuck is wrong with me that I would want that? What is wrong with me that I miss someone I never had? 4 years together, but I never really had him.

He didn’t abuse me. He wasn't mean. He didn't yell. He didn’t mistreat me. He just kept me at arms length. He just didn't love me.

I still dream about him. In fact, more now than I did when we were together and more now than I did when he first left. The dreams are usually the same. I can smell him; his shampoo and deodorant and soap, the slight hint of cigarette smoke. Usually, he apologizes to me. Usually, I forgive him. I always touch his hair. Doesn’t matter if it even fits in the dream, I always manage to touch his hair. One time, he wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in the back of my neck, fingers laced with mine and he said he was sorry. He told me he missed me. He said all the things I wanted to hear for so long. I woke up crying and I could still smell him. And feel his breath on my neck. And I missed him. GOD, I missed him.

Most days I’m fine. It’s been 8 months; I should hope I’d mostly be fine by now! But some days, especially this time of year, are harder than others. I miss cooking for us. I miss buying frilly lingerie to entice him. I miss him fixing my car or taking out the trash or just changing a light bulb for me and then teasing me about being so short. I miss him burning CDs for me and I miss buying him his favorite movies and eating 4 different kinds of ice cream, because we couldn't pick just one, while we watched them together. I miss his sarcastic and hilarious texts. I miss feeling his hand on my hip.

There’s so much I don’t miss. SOOO much. But sometimes, like tonight, I just miss his presence.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Aw Nuts!

So, the new Director of Finance (on whom I *may* have a teeny, tiny, gigantic, little, inappropriate crush) called me Friday. I had my mouth full when I answered the phone (classy, I KNOW). He said, “what’re you doing”, I replied, “eating peanuts”…welllll, that’s sort of what I said. Take out the “t”…yeah, so …

We were both silent for a second and then he said, “ok, call me when you’re done”.

Nicely played, sir!

Every single day I’m amazed that I still have my job…

Saturday, September 6, 2008

Move Over Rachael "Yummo" Ray...

Last night, I cooked a roast, while I slept. That's right, people, I am that good at multi-tasking.

Except, I'm not.

Here's the thing - I prepared this succulent pork roast with sweet sauerkraut (yes, I realize that sounds like an oxymoron), garlic cloves tucked deep into the meat, some lovely slices of apples and onions mixed in and a delightful glaze of brown sugar and butter on top...

And forgot to press "start" on the crockpot. Fuck.

So, now I have 3.7 pounds of pork, which has sat in a room temperature kitchen overnight (what temperature is room temperature exactly? I'm totally serious. I realize I could look this up on the Google, but I don't feel like it. I'm bitter and unmotivated right now.) and I think it probably needs to be thrown out. You can't cook something that's sat out all night, can you? Especially pork...isn't that how people, you know, DIE?

I don't know what to do. It wasn't a cheap roast and I already had it in my head that that's what I'll be having this week (with mashed potatoes and either orange simmered carrots or spicy pecan, nutmeg and cinnamon infused root vegetables. I totally sound like an awesome cook; I know, right? Yeah, evidently NOT!)

If I cook the meat, won't that kill any bacteria that sneaked in over the course of the unrefrigerated brainfart night? What did they do in olden days before they had refrigerators?


Sunday, June 1, 2008

But I'm Not Bitter...

I have a new idea for a reality show. After the success of “Joe Millionaire”, “The Bachelor”, “Farmer Wants a Wife” and “What’s This on My Shoe?” I have a can’t-miss show. We’ll put a smart, self-sufficient, funny woman (let’s just say me, for the sake of argument) in a room with 50 guys. 49 of them will be successful, emotionally generous, financially secure, kind, witty, loving men. One will be a douche.

I will find the douche.

No matter what. Doesn’t matter how much money is on the line. Doesn’t matter how many “Phone a Friends” I get. Doesn’t matter if I’m actually even trying or not. Hell, you could even blindfold me. I will find the douche. It’s like a gift I have. (It works with expensive shoes too, by the way. I can walk into any shoe store and *instantly* find the most expensive pair of shoes without even trying.)

We’ll call it “Who Wants to Feel Like Shit ALLLL the Time, but Will Continue to Give and Give and Give Some More Until 4 Years Have Passed and You’re a Shell of the Person You Once Were and Yet You Somehow Manage to Convince Yourself That It’s Your Fault!”

Someone call FOX, I smell a hit!