Things That Are Bothering Me TODAY

• Having to clean ALL of the things when I feel like I JUST cleaned ALL of the things when I MOVED ALL of the things.  There should be a free pass for 90 days after that.
• Dropping my toast on my new couch - butter-side down.
• Anyone who says I shouldn't be eating toast on my new couch.
• Emails from people telling me they miss me, but those same people never being particularly engaged in talking to me when I'm around.
• Blogger REFUSING to go to the next line when I hit "enter" and making me MANUALLY drop to the next line.  
• Lying down too quickly and smooshing my boobs.
• Cat hair.
• Guys who send me emails from the personals thing that just say, "Hey - how you doing?"  I'm fine.  REALLY, that's what you came up with as an opening?  Go sit down.  Oh and part two of this?  You don't have to be a good speller anymore, that's why Al Gore invented Spellchecker.  Use it for fuck's sake.
• The cat who REFUSES to sit on the window perch that I bought and installed for her and instead lays on the bathroom floor.  Jerk.
• Amazing sex dreams in the morning that won't get out of your head for the rest of the day.
• Humidity making my hair look like Roseanne Rosannadanna.
• Having to look up how to spell Roseanne Rosannadanna.
• People who are too young to know who Roseanne Rosannadanna is.
• Hot guys who are too young for me.
• Hot guys who are too married for me.
• Hot weather that is too hot for me.
• LeBron James.

*AWKward*!

Ok, real quick - so this is NOT part two of the other post - I'll get to that later.  This is just a little exchange I had with my father.  Oh, backstory, um, my sexyfuntime friend will be here tomorrow night and we will be, um, getting together. 

Dad:  Lainey, can you take me up to drop off my car at the shop tomorrow when you get off work?
Me:  Um, can I take you up there tonight?  I have plans tomorrow night.

Dad:  Right after work?  What are you doing?

Me:  Um, a friend is in town.

Dad:  Ok, well, I was going to make dinner and wanted to see if you wanted to join me.

Me:  Oh, thanks.  Um, can we do it another night?
Dad:  Well, why don't you just bring your friend by?
Me:  We have plans already.
Dad:  What are you going to do?
Me:  What's with all the questions?  I don't know.  Probably watch a movie and catch up.  We haven't seen each other in awhile.

Dad:  Ok, well if you get bored, you and your friend can come by for dessert.

Me:  OKGREATTHANKSBYE.

Awkward. 

Out with the Old and in with the New (or OwtOaiwtN for those who prefer acronyms)

As you may have noticed (or not, I don't know how observant some of you are), I've not been around much lately.  Here, Pajiba, and even Facebook, to a degree.  Lots of stuff going on - some good, some bad, but all for the better, I think.

Oh, but first, I owe you an update on the sabotager (I'm sorry, but "saboteur" just sounds so snooty).  After extensive observation from our IT department, we felt there was enough evidence to support the suspicion that she had been deliberately sabotaging her co-worker's reports and we fired her.  She denied, denied, DENIED it and then accused IT of setting her up.  Unemployment disagreed with us and despite PAGES of documentation, awarded her benefits because we didn't have definitive proof that she did it.  I guess you have to actually videotape them doing it and then you probably have to prove that the video is actually of THEM and not some look-alike that you hired and then you probably have to send them DNA evidence, too.  Whatever. 

Moving on.  Blogger has new templates and since I've made over my entire apartment in the last month, I decided to make over this here fancy blog, too.  Let me know what you think.  (Or, if you just want to make an assy comment, don't let me know what you think.  I don't really have a lot of patience for assyness right now.)  Back to the apartment!  Those of you on Facebook are probably sick to death of hearing about the redecoration EXTRAVAGANZA, so feel free to skip ahead.  To the rest - OMG, I TOTALLY got my apartment redid and it is SO exciting!  I've lived here for 12 or 13 years and while I've always liked my apartment, I never LOVED it.  I always liked its potential, but it never lived up to that potential because the landlord wouldn't put any money into it and I wouldn't either.  The paint was old and cracked and yellowed, the carpet was a hideous barf color and really qualified more as a mat than a carpet, and the windows were just... rattley glass in hard to open frames.  On my end, the furniture was all mismatched, over-sized crap I got from friends or bought a piece here or a piece there, and I had kind of given up on making it look nice, because no matter how much I cleaned (FINE, no matter how much the person I hired to clean cleaned) it still looked like a mishmash of clutter and dingy neglect.  NOW, THOUGH?  Sparkly and clean and pretty!  New carpet and fresh paint in cheery yellow and ice blue, brand-spankin' new double-hung windows, which holy cow, I've never had new windows before and I *might* have a slight obsession with cleaning them (Ilovethemsomuch!), and new blinds that are being installed by my landlord as I type this.  I bought a whole new living room and dining room set and a new bed, plus little extras like pictures, bookshelves, and a red microwave.  How does the red microwave have any relevance?  It DOESN'T.  I just WANTED it, is that OK with YOU?   Anyway, it's been a lot of work packing up and moving all of my crap & throwing out tons of junk, but it's all pretty and new now and I'm happy as can be!  It even has that new carpet smell instead of old, dusty, years-of-smoking smell.

Balls.  This is getting really long and I have a lot more to say, but I hate reading super long meandering blog posts, so I'm going to save it for PART 2: EXTRAVAGANZA SUPERSEXYNOVA OF SPARKLEBLAHBLAHBLAH.  Or something. 

Oh, ok, but real quick - I bought these fun trash bags because I had to cart like, I don't know, A MILLION bags of crap out before the carpet could be ripped out and replaced and I am nothing if not frivolous.  How cute are these!?  I KNOW, right?

What a Weird Day

Hi!  I think it's only fair to warn you that this will not be interesting or entertaining, but hey, that's just how life goes sometimes, ya' know?

So, last night I did not sleep well at all.  I suck at sleeping normally, but last night I was extra bad at it and got a total of maybe 3 hours and yet still woke up in a fairly decent mood.  I bopped out to my car this morning and grabbed my sunglasses from their spot, put the key in the ignition, all the lights lit up, and then nothing.  Car no go.  I called my friend, the race car driver, because he knows a bit about engines and also because WHO WOULDN'T want to talk to me first thing on a Monday morning?  He asked a couple of questions and told me it was the battery (which, I totally thought he was full of shit because the lights and stuff worked, but I went with it anyway, because, well, he's a guy and he knows about cars and because I didn't feel like arguing with him) and that a jump would probably get it started and I should get a new battery.  I called my boss and said I'd be late (oh and I had Thursday afternoon and Friday off, so I'm SURE my boss was all, "Really?  Seriously, you're going to call in late on a Monday after a long weekend?  Really?") and then called my dad and woke him up.  I asked him if he would jump my car (even though I still really didn't think it would be that simple) and he, because he's a very nice guy, said sure and then showed up in his boxers.  He at least had the decency to put on a shirt, but evidently it was too difficult to pull on a pair of jeans over those boxers...  Anyway, he told me my jumper cables were "girl cables" (No, they were not pink.  I don't know what the hell "girl cables" are, but whatever) and would use his instead.  Hooked it up and voila' - started right up.  Dammit, I hate it when that boy is right! (Thank you!)  Oh and then my dad taught me how to use the jumper cables - twice, because I am apparently not bright enough to understand red to red and positive to positive and the directions written on the tag attached to the cables...

Most of the day went by as usual - catching up on emails and FMLA paperwork and reading the EMPHATIC opinions of the LOST finale, when my boss called me in to her office.  So check this out, we have an employee who is sabotaging another employee.  There's this guy who runs reports and saves them to a shared drive and then this saboteur (is that a real word?) is going in and changing his reports or deleting portions of them and this guy keeps getting blamed for having fucked up work!  I KNOW, RIGHT?  Like for months, he's been getting in trouble for errors on his reports and for missing & incorrect information and he's been going crazy telling his supervisor that he did the report correctly and everyone just thinks he's a dumbass or a lying dumbass and come to find out, his co-worker is totally SCREWING him over!  He started taking screen caps of his reports and emailing them to another co-worker, so he can prove that he did it correctly and blah, blah, blah, the IT guys did something and figured out that this co-worker of his was logging in as him, but from her computer, I don't know it's all computery... all I know is this chick is a fucking piece of work and I'm curious to see how this plays out.  AND THEN zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz sorry, I launched into a totally different REALLY boring story and decided that even I didn't care enough to finish it, so you probably wouldn't care enough either.   I'll just leave you with this - I spent $25 on a bottle of shampoo.  Because I have zero impulse control and because that damn Meg told me I should, so now I'm off to wash my hair and it better be A-FREAKIN'-MAZING.

Oh sorry, how rude of me - how are YOU?  Anything you'd like to share with the other kids?

Conversations with My Father - Pt. 4

*sigh*

You guys?  I'm almost starting to suspect that some of you are messing with me.  My dad called. *sigh*

Dad:  Hi, I know you're at work and can't really talk, but I bought a UPS and I need you to help me with it.
Me:  What?
Dad:  You know, one of those UPS things.
Me:  *sigh*  ... Umm?
Dad:  For driving.  A CPU.
Me:  Wait, you just bought this?  What does the box say it is?
Dad:  Dammit, Lainey, it's just one of those CPS map things!  Jesus, sorry I don't know the EXACT name of it!
Me:  A GPS?  You bought a GPS?  WHY?  I have one, you can have mine.
Dad:  I don't want yours, I have my own now.  Can you come by after work and teach me how to use it?
Me:  Dad, you drive cars for a living, I'm pretty sure you know every single road in this city, why do you need a GPS?
Dad:  Because I just DO.  Can you stop by or not?
Me:  Sure.  I haven't had a headache in 3 whole days, so yeah, I'm about due...

Phone rings 20 seconds later:
Dad:  Will this plug into my phone or does it get wired in through the odometer?  (True story!)

Here's a bonus conversation for you.  This took place a couple of years ago.

Dad:  What's that one movie?
Me:  Which one movie?
Dad:  The one with that guy I like.
Me:  ....Umm?
Dad:  *sigh*  You KNOW.  The one with the Other Ben.
Me:  You mean Matt Damon?
Dad:  YES, what's that movie?
Me:  I have no idea...he's in a lot of movies.
Dad:  Dammit, Lainey, you know the one!  The one with that girl who was like a crazy, teenager, stripper with the girl from Clueless.
Me:  ... ....
Me:  Armageddon?
Dad:  YEP, that's it!
Me:  That was actually Ben Affleck, not the Other Ben.
Dad:  Oh, ok then, well what's that one movie with the Other Ben?
Me:  I'm done with this conversation... I have a headache.

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.

Cost Effective AND Good for the Environment!

You guys, this week?  Holy balls.  This week has kicked me in the teeth and almost reduced me to tears a couple of times.  It's INSANE the amount of crap that's going on at work and people have done lost their damn minds!  Ohmylord.  But anyway, this isn't about that.  This entry is not a "woe is me, my job is *hard*" post.  This entry is all about the GEM I found today when emptying the Suggestion Box (Which seriously, really needs a new name. Rarely, if ever, have I had a legitimate and cost-effective/helpful suggestion come from it. In fact, truth be told, I fucking hate the Suggestion Box and think it's worthless and encourages stupidity.  One of the first "Suggestions" [Yes, it needs quotes] was for the company to pump pure oxygen in through the air vents, so the employees would be more alert and productive.  Hand to God.  Actual "Suggestion".). 

However, I want to find this person and ask them to be my new BFF.

Haa, A-MEN, my red pen-loving friend.  A-fucking-men!

Conversations with My Father Pt. 3

This is a true story and JUST happened like 5 minutes ago.

Dad: Did you take $200 out of my checking account?

Me: Yeah, like 2 or 3 weeks ago.

Dad: Why would you do that?

Me: Um, remember that $200 check I asked you to deposit for me and you accidentally deposited it in *your* account and I said, "No big deal, I'll just transfer it to my account". Remember that?

Dad: Well I DO NOW, but I didn't remember it earlier when I got my bank statement and it said "$200 withdrawal - internet transfer" and I marched down to the bank demanding to know who the fuck was stealing money from me on the internet! And the girl said, "Oh no! Let me see what's going on...oh, Mr. Bobainey, a Miss Lainey Bobainey transferred $200 from your account, on which she has signature ability (that you made her take time off of work to go fucking get so that she could access your whopping $1100 checking account in case you die in your sleep and she needs money to have someone haul out the 400 fucking jars of pickles that you keep buying because they're only $.88 apiece even though you never eat them, but by all means, keep buying them because hey, why not... she might not have actually said any of this part...), to her account on March 27th."

Me: *facepalm* Great, so now the bank thinks I'm embezzling from my father. Awse. Dad, why didn't you ask me first instead of going to the bank?

Dad: Because, LAINEY, I've seen this on the news. Internet people hijack (I think he meant "hack") into the accounts of rich old people and take a little bit at a time so no one becomes suspicious and since you put my account on the internet (not even going to bother trying to correct him on this one) when you got access to it, I was afraid it notified hijackers or something.

Me: Ok, first of all, you're only 62 and you're also not exactly rich. Secondly, you need to just stop watching the news.

Dad: Maybe the bank should have something in place where they send an email if someone tries to access your account?

Me: But, you don't have an email...

Dad: YES, I do!

Me: *sigh* Nope, you're right - I forgot. I'll call the bank on Monday and tell them to send you an email at dennybobainey at the internet dot com from now on.

Dad: Good. That's just common sense, you know?

Me: Yep...

Phone rings 20 seconds later...
Dad:  Will you check my email - maybe the bank already does this?

Reason #432 Why I'll Never Be an Executive

The VP was in my office today.  No big, he's in my office a lot.  Usually, he's standing across from me (probably looking at my boobs - he seriously has an issue with the obvious boob-looking). Today he was standing behind my desk with me looking at something (that miraculously wasn't Facebook) on my computer.

Him:  What the hell is that?

Me:  What?

Him:  That - there.

Me:  A unicorn stabbing a mime.

Him:  In a Zen garden?

Me:  It's relaxing.

Him walking out the door and shaking his head...

Me:  It's RELAXING!

I Send Vibrations In Your Direction...

So…. I accidentally went away for a while.  I wasn't trying to and it wasn't planned.  It's kind of like how I accidentally quit drinking when I quit smoking.  I just stopped for a bit and then suddenly it was a month later and then two and then so on.  Yeah, so this here fancy blog is kind of like that.

 

I went away for a bit because I was having The Sadz (with a 'z' cause that's how the kidz do, amiright?) and while it's not really fun or interesting to write about that, I also know that it's not the least bit fun or interesting to read about and I refuse to be one of those people who writes whiny self-indulgent pleas for attention.  I mean, don't get me wrong, I'll totally write self-indulgent pleas for attention, I have a blog so obviously, but I don't want to be one of the ones who make people think, "Well hell, there's 4 minutes of my life I'll never get back and holy crap, stop your damn whining already – you're sad, we get it!"  Anyway, I think The Sadz (still with a 'z' because I am nothing if not a joke-runner-into-the-grounder) have gone away for now, hopefully until next winter.  I'm not normally depressed or even really bummed for no discernable reason and certainly not for more than a day or two, so I think I may have that Seasonal Affective Disorder thing; the last few years (particularly the last few Januarys and Februarys) are starting to make more sense with that in mind.

 

Contrary to what it seems, this post is actually not really supposed to be about me.  That long-ass paragraph above?  That was just supposed to be an introduction.  This is really about Alabama Pink.  Well, technically, it's about Alabama Pink's legacy.  I didn't really know Amanda, except from the writing she shared with us, but I liked her.  I didn't really know her husband, except through her writing about him and his writing about her.  After she passed away, I was hesitant to reach out to Mr. Pink, because it felt presumptuous of me.  But, because my mom died when I was young and I was raised by a single father, I thought that I might be able to offer some insight or I don't know, be some kind of sounding board for him.  It took me many months, but I am so glad I finally did.

 

I've learned so much about Amanda from the way Mr. Pink talks about her.  I think I would have liked the hell out of her!  And I've learned so much about Mr. Pink and the monumental year he's had and all he's accomplished.  I've gotten to know what a genuinely good father he is and what a fantastic sense of humor he has and what a loyal friend he is.  I've been privileged to witness snippets of Little A's life and his accomplishments and new discoveries.  And I've been unbelievably grateful to have these wonderful, smart, funny, and open people in my life thanks to a movie review website.  Huh.  Whether he knows it or not (which, I guess he'll know it now), Mr. Pink helped pull me out of this funk.  His uncanny knack for sending me an email just as I'm sinking down again or some smartass comment during one of our incessant Scrabble games has been my lifeline the last couple of months.  His enthusiasm (dare I say EXUBERANCE?) has made me giggle more times than I can count and his ability to get out of bed, day after day, to do what must be done and his love for his wife and his child makes my heart hurt less & reminds me that my little life is not so very bad.

So, in my long, rambling, round-about way, thank you, Amanda.  Thank you for being awesome and for introducing me to your equally awesome family.  I love you all.