(Hopefully) New Beginnings

January 5, 2010

Several people have asked me what’s been going on lately.  I’m never quite sure how to answer them.  Typically, the appropriate answer is ‘fine’ because that’s what people expect to hear and want to believe.  But here’s the truth:

To say that I’ve been depressed lately would be a gross understantment.  I’ve been really, really down.  I have friends who can recognize the symptoms of a bout with depression and medicate, meditate, reduce stress, etc. to avoid it.  My depression seems to creep up on me slowly and silently and spring like a bear trap.  It leaves me writhing in pain and mental anguish and wondering “What the fuck is going on here?”  As with many times before this, I didn’t even know I was falling into depression until I was already there.  I think I’m coming out of it now, though.  For me, things tend to get a little foggy.  I become angry and irritated with people around me because on the inside I’m feeling anxious and self-conscious which I hate, but  feeling that way but I don’t know how to avoid it.

This is me. 

I’m not the kind of person to make “New Year’s Resolutions” but I’m going to try one this year:  I want to write more about who I am and how I feel and get it all out there.  Bottling it all up isn’t getting me anywhere productive and is actually proving to be quite damaging.  So…here goes nothing.

 Wish me luck.


My Dream Monkey, My Vagina

January 5, 2010

If I had a pet monkey my life would pretty much be complete.  I’ve had this plan in place for kind of a long time so don’t be all “You’re trying to steal Dane Cook’s idea!” because seriously?  My idea is way better.  Yes, I want to train my monkey to be a ninja BUT I also want to train my monkey how to use the US postal service and/or FedEx.  Once My Vagina (the monkey’s name would be My Vagina, by the way) was trained in the ninja arts and how to complete a return mailing address sticker I would set my plan in action.

First, I would mail My Vagina to an enemy; then, like a stripper from a giant birthday cake, My Vagina would burst out of the package and begin beating the crap out of said enemy.  Once My Vagina felt like the enemy had received a sufficient beating  he would fill out the return address form and get back into the package and mail himself home.  Really, I think this idea is virtually foolproof.

Also, think of the self defeat people would feel after receiving a beating from My Vagina.  I’ll leave you to think about that now.  Talk amongst yourselves.

Life Sucks Or: Reasons why everyone is going to get stabbed.

September 24, 2009

Let me  tell you a little bit about last week.  It’s been…shitty…to say the least.  Seriously, you have no idea.

Monday: Everything was ok, except it was fucking MONDAY and I’m pretty sure we can all agree that Monday’s were invented by sadistic bastards that want us to punch babies….  So, yeah…everything was ok…EXCEPT that I had to go see Dr. Creepy (the guy that stares at my boobs and fondles my elbow skin).  Surprisingly though, Dr. Creepy was mostly uncreepy this time, all things considered.  I was going to Movie Monday at Bethany’s house where there would be pizza and laughter and all would be right in the world after my potentially wacked out experience with Dr. Creepy so I drove back from the doctor’s office and waited to pick up Bethany and then?  Do you know what happened?  You probably don’t.  I will tell you.  My motherfucking car broke.  I turned the key and IT DIDN’T FUCKING START.  That is the hallmark of a broken car.  Let me tell you…….I was PISSED!  Unfortunately, this has happened a time or two before so I assumed I had left my lights on (again) and killed my battery (again).  That wasn’t it.  We tried to jump start the car for…oh…about an hour…and then we finally gave up.  We were hungry and the pizza was calling to us.  Off to Bethany’s.  After the movie was over we went back to my work and tried to jump start the car again…you know…like maybe the car fairies came by and were all “You need help.  Here….your car works now!”  Except the stupid whore fairies didn’t come by and my car was still broken.  Sad and dejected we went home.

Tuesday, I got a ride to work from Rob.  In the Jeep.  The Jeep is….smelly…and hard to get in…and drives really rough…and has mud tires on it….and is lifted…and did I already mention that it’s smelly?  Yes?  Well, I’ll tell you again because it’s REALLY smelly.  It’s totally a man’s car.  It is beautiful in its complexity and smelliness.  In a manly sort of way…I guess.  I’ve never heard of a snorkel for a car, but this one has it.  Rob’s Jeep is…utilitarian.  Not the kind of car I’m used to riding in.  My car has leather seats and hiney heaters and a smooth, quiet ride.  The Jeep is rough and loud and the windows were down so my hair looked like I’d been ravaged by a pack of wild llama by the time I got to work…but I GOT TO WORK!  So, there was at least that.  However, even with all of Rob’s tinkering, my car still wouldn’t start.  Sucky!  I called the dealership where I purchased the car and they were all “call the manufacturer…they’ll tow your car here for free” so I called and THEY TOTALLY TOWED MY CAR FOR FREE!!  I got a free tow that WASN’T EVEN FROM MY INSURANCE COMPANY.  I loved that.  I had to ride in a tow truck though.  And that was mostly sucky.  For the second time in 24 hours I was riding in a vehicle that was loud and smelly and dirty and not at all what I’m used to.  Thanks, Tuesday.  I got a rental car from Enterprise; a 2009 Pontiac Vibe.  It still had that icky “new car” smell.  So. Gross.  But?  I had a car to drive!

Wednesday, I went to work and was there for…oh…two hours? before I got a call from the dealership saying that they had forgotten to have me sign the authorization to work on my car.  No problem.  “Fax it over,” I said.  “Um…we don’t have a fax machine right now.”  WHAT THE FUCK!?  What business doesn’t have a fax machine?  Whatever.  It was close to lunch so I agreed to drive across town and sign the damn paper.  I arrived at the service department and signed the paper but the guy was all “Uh…we probably know what it is…the part isn’t recalled…yet…but this happens all the time.  Do you want to wait and have us fix it and you can just drive your car home?”  HELL YES!   So, I assumed that 30 minutes later I’d be on the road.  Not so much.  It was more like an hour.  And more like hell.  Yeah.  I waited and I waited and finally they were all “Dude, your car is totally fixed” and I was all “I HOPE SO!”  So I leave to put gas in the rental car so I wouldn’t get charged OUT THE ASS.

I pull into the gas station that is right across the street from Enterprise and see that half of the pumps are out-of-order and that’s inconvenient but I was not going to be bummed out.  MY CAR WAS WORKING!  So I fill up the rental car and I’m leaving the gas station and all of the sudden, do you know what happened?  You don’t.  Let me tell you:  the tired EXPLODED.  Like….I don’t even know what to liken it to!  It was a fucking EXPLOSION! In the tire! and the car was half in the gas station driveway and half in the way of oncoming traffic.  Some guy pulled up behind me as I was getting out of the car IN THE RAIN to look at my FLAT TIRE on the fucking RENTAL CAR and he rolls down his window and is all “GET OUT OF THE WAY, BITCH!”  And y’all.  That’s when I lost it.  I totally SCREAMED at him: “Thank God you’re here, ASSHOLE because that hadn’t FUCKING OCCURRED TO ME to GET OUT OF YOUR WAY!  Can’t you see that my FUCKING TIRE IS FLAT?”  I’m sure I looked kind of like this: 


And then I almost started to cry but I TOTALLY DIDN’T and I just called the rental company and was all “Uh, bitches, your car just malfunctioned on me.  Come get your shit.”  And they totally did.  I spent the rest of the day filling out paperwork and driving back and forth from Enterprise to the dealership but I finally got my car back and all was right in the world.  I missed my car so much.

So, yeah.  For those of you that follow me on Twitter and were all “Why are you so stabby?” and “You ALWAYS feel stabby these days!” and stuff like that?  THIS is why I felt so stabby.  THIS. RIGHT. HERE.


P.S.  Did I forget to mention that after the rental car was picked up and taken away on a tow truck I realized that I left my FUCKING PHONE IN THE FUCKING CAR!?!  Because that’s what happened.  And then I had to drive 30 minutes in rush hour traffic to get it back from Enterprise….but that was only after 30  minutes of “Hmm…where did I have my phone last?” and “I will take everything out of my purse and turn it inside out” (literally) and “Goddamn you iPhone! WHERE ARE YOU HIDING!!?!”  So…yeah.  But, on the other hand?  I got my car back.  So…yeah.

Thanks, coworker

September 19, 2009

This is why my day is sucking: I don’t watch a lot of TV but I LOVE the show The Office. My coworker just ruined the episode from last night for me though. Here’s how it went down.

Coworker: Hey! Did you see last nights episode of The Office yet?!

Me: No, I haven’t. It’s on the DVR though. I’m hoping to watch it this weekend.

Coworker: Well, lemme tell you blah blah blah EVERY HILARIOUS DETAIL blah blah blah! Isn’t that funny!?

Me: faceplant

Can you even mount spurs on 3″ heels? I hope so.

September 11, 2009

Conversation I had with one of my awesome coworkers today:

Backstory: coworker left his keys at home today. I have a key for everyone on my team’s desks so I handed him my giant key ring. He was shaking it while walking back to my desk where the following conversation took place.

Coworker: These keys sound like spurs.

Me: Dude. We should have spurs around here.

Coworker: uh……….?

Me: No. Seriously. Think about it. You’re in a meeting and it’s running long and you want to go to lunch. So you’re all “Pick up the pace, buddy!” and then they’re all “You’re not the boss of me!” and then you’ll be all like “these motherfucking spurs say I AM the boss of you. WHAT NOW!?!” and then you put your foot up on the table and look all menacing. Brilliant, right!?!

Coworker: This is why I like coming over here.

And then he walked away. I’m pretty sure he left to go find some spurs. I didn’t hear any ‘ching-ching-ching’ as he walked by later so I assume he bought his on the Internet and is waiting for them to be shipped.

I looked when I was at the store earlier but can you believe it? Fucking Wal-Mart doesn’t even carry spurs. What kind if crap is that!?! ‘One Stop Shop’? I don’t think so. You’ve let me down, Wal-Mart. Seriously. I don’t care that I live in an urban area with very few people that could see the potential benefit of wearing spurs in the office. It’s not MY fault that other people don’t have the kind of brilliance I do.

Brutal Honesty

September 9, 2009

I decided to start being more honest. Like, brutally honest. So, as my first brutally honest revelation I’ll tell you a secret: I’m writing this post from the ladies restroom at my place of employment. That’s right! I’m in the restroom. Not only that, but I’m on the toilet right now. Do you know what that means? I’ll tell you: I don’t have my pants on right now. Fuck. Yeah. No pants. I feel strangely liberated in my pants-free state. I’m actually considering not wearing pants more often. Seriously. No. More. Pants. Well…maybe sometimes. I live in Oregon and sometimes it’s cold here. Like really, really cold…I’ll need pants during those months.

Anyway, what was I saying? I don’t even remember. Wait…I think I was *going* to say that I’m stuck in the ladies room because my coworkers suck. I’m pretty sure that’s where I was going with this. Or maybe not. That’s where I’m going now though. Get your safety belts on.

My coworkers are some seriously needy sons-of-bitches. Seriously. I won’t go into details because as much as they make me want to stab them I actually really like my job. But sometimes? Sometimes I just want to load them all up and take them to the glue factory. For realz, yo.

Today has been all my fault though. I’ve been screwing up left and right all day and it’s not fucking pretty. That report? I didn’t do it. That presentation?I forgot slides 11, 16 & 31…even after that one guy reminded me. My intern? I forgot today was his first day back and I was 30 minutes late meeting him. One giant strung of fuck ups back-to-fucking-back. Everyone has those days though…right? RIGHT?!

Word to the wise: when you see a coworker’s eye TWITCH when you say “You got a minute?” it would be best for EVERYONE if you just come back later. Or? Never. Never is a good second choice. Aaaaaaand…that’s all I have to say about that.

In case you were wondering? I still have no pants on. That’s right! No. Pants.

Don’t worry. I’m still in the restroom. I’m not that “free” yet.

The Universe Doesn’t Want Me To Do Laundry

September 6, 2009

Today is Saturday. The first Saturday since fucking JUNE that I didn’t have plans to be somewhere at the ass-crack of dawn. I got to sleep in. At least, I was supposed to sleep in. I woke up at 8:00am. To me? That is not sleeping in. Sleeping in means *barely* making it out of bed at an hour that could still be called “morning” by normal people. Sleeping in means waking up, looking at the clock seeing that it’s 8:00 and saying “fuck you, world! It’s Saturday, I’m going back to sleep.”

I *tried* to go back to sleep. I tossed and turned until 9:00am and then decided it was time to get up. To start my day. And by ‘start my day’ I mean stumble around my house while still wearing my pajamas.

As I write this I’m still in my pajamas. I have no intention of changing. I’m the only person home this weekend. Around here, a house normally filled with six people, three dogs, two cats, and all the visitors each person brings along? Being alone at home is rare. It’s peaceful…except for the mess left behind when everyone was packing to go camping for two weeks….that’s not very peaceful. Oh well…I’ll take what I can get. I miss everyone though. Honestly.

I’ve been gone every day from 8:00am until at least midnight for the last three weeks and before that it was 8:00 until around 10:00. I’m drained. I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.

I had big plans for today. I planne to stay home and do laundry, work on a project that I haven’t been able to finish at the office this week, write a post for the Bloggess Army, clean my room and after all that go to my brother’s birthday dinner. So far I’ve made a grilled cheese sandwich, put my hair in pigtails, started one load of laundry and fell asleep playing with the cat. To Do List FAIL.

I’m trying to feel bad about being so lazy but it’s not working. I’m totally enjoying my lazy day. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some napping to do.

Oh. My. God. Becky, look…

August 25, 2009

So, there I am, standing in the middle of Macy’s.  A few racks of clothing away is a mid-thirties, obviously career-type-mom with her three or four year old son.  The kid is being relatively well behaved and I’m super impressed.  His hair is perfect and obviously spiked with product.  His little argyle sweater and khaki pants are without stains and wrinkles.  This is the kind of kid that has no fun.  Maybe.  This kid is just standing there…WITH HIS HANDS BEHIND HIS BACK.  He wasn’t even in trouble y’all and he was just standing there.

So Awesome Kid is kind of looking around and then all of the suddenhe starts shouting.  It wasn’t clear at first because he was A) shouting and B) talking like a three or four-year-old but he managed to get a few words out before his horrified mother could drop the trousers and suit jackets she was apparently getting ready to try on and clamp her hand over his mouth with violent shushing.  His rhythm started out kind of off but I picked out what he was saying towards the end.  This is what I heard:

“I [mumble] BIG BUTTS AND I [mumble] LIE, YOU [mumble] OTHER…” aaaaaaaaaaand that’s when his mom’s hand clamped over his mouth…aaaaaaaaaaand when I started laughing hysterically.  Seriously.  If I had a kid and he was just doin’ his thing but wanted to bust out a song every now and then? I like to think that I’d allow him to do so.  In my imagination, I’m a super cool parent type.

Charity for the Lazy-at-Heart

August 22, 2009

In light of the upcoming Bloggess Army (#ba) charity drive I thought I would impart my Mid-Recession Charity Wisdom:

If you’re like me, you’ve got dozens of “mostly spent” gift cards rolling around in the kitchen junk drawer with lame balances like $1.07 and $2.41 that you can’t spend without finding a transaction with that exact balance.  Well, good news:  You can SPEND THOSE DOLLARS.  Just…maybe not the way your Uncle Milton had in mind when he gave you that gift card.  When you’ve gotten all the useful dollars off the card and you’re left with a weird balance just go the website of your favorite charity and make a donation for the exact dollar amount that’s left on the gift card.  (Some card holders will require that you register the card online before doing any sort of online transaction but it’s usually quick and painless.)

Let’s face it, when you’re making the tough decisions like “Should I put gas in the car or food on the table?” making charitable contributions isn’t in the forefront of your mind.  I found this method to be extra awesome a few years ago because I’m a selfish bitch and don’t want the big credit card corporations making an extra buck or two if at all possible but I think it will be extra helpful during these tough economic times.  🙂


Chuck Norris (@PrincessOfForks)

Officially Crazy? Probably.

August 19, 2009

Awesome or totally Fucked Up? You be the judge.

I told my coworker that I’m only accepting requests in triplicate from now on…signed in blood.  He stood there for a second just going, Blink. Blink. Blink.  But then he’s all “Does it need to be my own blood?”

If I get fired for joining The Bloggess Army I’m going to miss this job.  A lot.