You make me crazy when…

You have a party at your house which I can see right out my window while I’m sitting at the computer trying REALLY HARD to do my management training project but the cars are distracting and OH LOOK AT THAT someone went in with two bottles of wine and now I want more wine except that maybe my management training project will sound a little wonky when tossed with pinot grigio but that’s okay with me. I think.

My apologies

I didn’t know that one itty bitty post would turn out to be such a hornet’s nest.

Today’s post about the running-out-of-gas thing and the I-don’t-want-kids-to-turn-out-like-that thing was, in some circles, taken way out of context, and for that I apologize. Especially I apologize to BB, who was mightily offended at a lot of things I wrote. I’m sorry, and I promise to try harder and generally be better at everything in general, not just writing about fights we have. I swear.

Ok, so now I have to wonder…are there other posts I’ve written out there that are just waiting to be discovered so they too can offend? Am I, as someone said to me tonight on the phone, (I’m paraphrasing) “firmly in the ’snark’ category?” My head says that I should really care about that, and to an extent, I do. I care about writing things that my husband finds hurtful and I really will make every effort to make sure that he never reads this thing again none of what I say here betrays his trust.

But my heart says I can’t write if I can’t say what I want. Not be overly melodramatic, but my blog is my catharsis and it’s my way of processing feelings that otherwise get bottlenecked somewhere on the overly-congested roads of my insides, where they eventually turn into anxiety and general gross-ness. I like doing this. I like hearing from you when you read something that you can identify with. This is just what I do.

In closing, my sincerest apologies to anyone (yes BB, even you) who took today’s post in any other way than it was originally intended. My goal here is simply to write, and I will strive to not suck at that from now on.

Seriously.

Why he should have just married his mother

It would have saved him a lot of trouble, I think, what with the massive amount of time I spend yelling at him as if I gave birth to him. (In my own defense, I CAN’T HELP MYSELF.) Yesterday, in a nutshell:

3:45 pm, Me: Hey Dad, you wanna come for dinner tonight? [Backstory: Mom's out of town, feel like I should have him over, safe bet he won't come because he NEVER does.] You do? Oh, well…good. We’re having chicken. I think.

4:30 pm, BB: Running a little late, probably won’t be home til 7:3o or so. What time is — well there you go, looks like your dad and I will get there at the same time.

5:30 pm, Food Lion Checkout Girl: You know, I never made this golden mushroom soup stuff. What’s it like? What do you do with it? And these don’t look like regular chicken breasts. What are you doing with those? You’re not in a hurry, are you? I just need to run down to Aisle 4 really fast…

6:05 pm, Me: Fuckity fuck fuck WHY IS NO ONE HERE TO CLEAN UP THIS HOUSE? Stop staring at me, cats, I AM ALLOWED TO YELL occasionally.

6:25 pm, BB: Hey, I ran out of gas. Can you come get me? In Goldsboro?

6:26 pm, Me: …

6:27 pm, Me: …

6:30 pm, Me: I have no words. I simply have no words.

6:45 pm, Me: Tell me where the fuck you are and why the fuck you ran out of gas. And tell me quick before I reach through this phone and strangle you with my bare-but-able hands, you…you…MAN.

6:50 pm, Me: Dad! Answer the phone! I’m on my way to Goldsboro to pick up Brian OFF THE SIDE OF THE ROAD and I need to push back dinner! DAAAAD!

6:55 pm, Dad: Did you call me, Lizzie? I see 3 missed calls, are they from you? Oh he ran out of gas…yeah, that used to happen to me in the Blazer all the time. See, here’s what you do: you tell him to reset the tripometer every time he fills up the gas tank…Hello? Are you there?

7:15 pm, BB: I’m just not sure that I’d be so much mad at you for running out of gas as I would be concerned about your safety. It kind of hurts my feelings that you’re mad at me. I mean, I couldn’t help it, I swear. I thought I could make it, really I did.

7:45 pm, Dad: Mmm, this chicken looks really good Lizzie. Is that corn over there? Well you know I don’t eat corn. Didn’t your mom tell you that I don’t eat corn anymore? She didn’t tell you that we just had this zucchini casserole two days ago, either? Huh. Well, she should have.

And this, Internet, this RIGHT HERE is why I am not having children. Because odds are, I’d have a boy. And then he would grow up to be like these two, and I’m not sure I could reconcile myself to adding another person like that to the world. I’m just not sure…

Making a comeback, apparently?

Thanks to Kathy for finding this for me:

As Lucky magazine is reporting, I need to dig out the “watchlace” again, get the damn battery fixed and wear it like it’s COOL. Because far be it from me to deny myself the latest trends, especially when they’re lurking in my jewelry box…waiting to be forgotten for another 10 years or so.

Enough already

I swear to you RIGHT NOW, if someone else I know dies anytime soon, I’m dyeing my hair and moving to New Guinea. Because I frankly don’t know what else you do when all the news everywhere is bad news. On Tuesday of this week, a man I work with dropped dead of a massive heart attack in the shower at his home before work. His wife works here as well, and was already here when she got the call. He was 44.

My co-workers went to see the wife yesterday afternoon and, as is to be expected, she was a basket case. Apparently she kept saying, “I feel like I’m in a bad dream, this has to be a bad dream, will I wake up soon?” and everyone around her just had to hug her and shake their heads because HOLY HELL what do you say to that? Yes, this is a bad dream, but no, you’re not ever going to wake up? I mean really. I’ve said so many prayers for her I’m running out of words.

In other news, I’m pretty for sure that my professor thinks I’m a dumbass. This class I’m taking – the next-to-last one before I graduate in December THANK YOU JESUS OH MY GOD I’M ALMOST DONE – is like a business-y, MBA kind of class, which means that I don’t know shit about it. I mean we’re talking value-added reports and compensation plans and managing yourself and, I’m sorry, what? So I emailed her – the prof – the other day, and I’m all Hey Dr. So-and-So, I’m a little worried about my performance in this class and she emails me back the following:

“Don’t be too concerned. I’ve been doing this class for a number of years and students with all levels of experience–including none–end up doing just fine. In fact, I think this is a great class for those with little experience in editing management because it introduces some concepts and tools that people may not get any experience with until they’re faced with them in the workplace. The reason I have you turn in the cases one at a time and then as a portfolio is because most people need feedback on their first attempts at the cases. For the cases that require working through the budget, use the worksheet–that’s key. I created a Word document from the sample in the book and that’s available in Course Docs and as an attachment to the thread I created last week. After you’re gone through it a few times, the calculations make more sense. I think you’ll be fine.”

She thinks I’ll be fine. Did you read that? Do you believe it? Yeah, me neither. If I wanted to get an MBA lady, I woulda signed up for an MBA. But I didn’t so much, and now I’m in this class and really I would drop it if I had any sense but I don’t and so now I’m stuck in it because I just want to be done so very very much. Pray for me people. I need someone (I’m talking to you here, Higgins) to lend me their business-idea-minded brain. Just for like, two more weeks. I’ll give it back, I swear. Or maybe not.