Kitten’s Mewlings

Pay attention to the news the next few weeks, those of you who are in the DFW area. You may very well see me and the other drafters from work on strike. Why? Many reasons. Those grievances against the company are hereby listed below:

(keep in mind, while reading, that our pay period is from Thurs-Wed)

1. If you are going to pay as little as possible to the employees, you should at least have SOME form of insurance offered. Do you? NO. A SALESMAN had to bring in a buddy of his from an insurance company to try to calm the company down a little. Let me tell you, the least you could do was welcome them with open arms and made a deal with them to offer lower rates. What money we do make would, if we chose to take them, would go directly into their greedy pockets.

2. Is it so much to ask that we make a decent wage? I understand that we may not all be qualified by collegic standards, but we know AutoCAD to a T and we know the database and we know what the fuck is going on! Hell, the guy who got me my job has been with you for SIX FUCKING YEARS and IS JUST NOW getting another 50c "raise" to an even $20/hr! THAT’S FUCKING BULLSHIT! I made that AS AN ENTRY LEVEL EMPLOYEE at my previous employer! The guy who sits next to me has been with you a little over a year now and is BARELY making $12.50/hr! Why not hire a completely staffed section of highschool employees? You’re already halfway there! FUCK! The PART-TIME employees make more per hour than the guy next to me! AND THEY WORK HALF THE TIME!

3. You wish to employ more people, therefore you CUT over time OUT of our shrinking list of possibilities? That makes NO FUCKING SENSE! Which works out better, paying one person time and a half at $13/hr (best scenario pay scale), or paying two people $13/hr? For a 40/hr week, you pay out twice as much as before, but, no! You’re looking at overtime as well! One person working overtime for one file is roughly 46hrs, which is $637 pretaxes. Paying two people to share a file at EXACTLY 40hrs pays out $1040 for that week, or roughly $520/person pretaxes. How does that save you money? And with the new policy in place, we are not allowed to clock in before 8am, yet you expect us AT OUR DESKS, ALREADY CLOCKED IN, READY TO WORK, AT EIGHT! Now we have mandatory ONE HOUR lunches? It was nice with a mandatory half-hour lunch with maximum allotted time set at one hour, but docking us the minutes we don’t stay away for the full hour? Counterproductive on SO many levels! And shall I begin with today’s announcement, at noon, "Those of you who have already clocked your forty hours, get your ass out"? By three today, there were roughly 6 of 18 drafters still click-clacking our keyboards. I missed half-day on Friday, and being yelled at because I’m still fumbling with my belongings AT FIVE FIFTEEN because I haven’t left yet DOESN’T allow me to make up those four hours I need to even REACH my required 40. And I hope you’re happy, I didn’t make my 40, which means my paycheck this Friday will be quite small and I will be lucky to be able to pay for fuel after bills are paid.

Oh, wait, you want to keep money out of our pockets while you line yours with as much of the good green as possible. Greedy bastards.

4. The "teams" you put us on cause nothing but trouble. We compete to put things into production, however if the salesmen don’t sell, we don’t produce. Not to mention that salesmen are unfairly divided among the teams, some teams (like mine) have ALL new people and two veterans under one bitch who knows NOTHING about leading a group of people, and the work is unfairly balanced upon those teams that are weaker. Our quota each quarter hovers around $700,000 of drawings, and with record breaking sales the last two quarters, our expected quota has risen, not taking into account the weaker teams BARELY scraping by. And the "rewards"? JUST for making quota, a team gets "bonuses". These are a load of crap. It started with the winning team getting $3000 to split among the members. That was fine. Now it’s shifted to simply making quota gets you a minimum $50 "bonus". The higher up you are in the team structure, the more money you get, and the "winning team" gets nearly a double paycheck. We rake in a MINIMUM of 2.1MILLION each quarter, and all we get is an extra paycheck? Where’s our .5% of that 2.1MILLION? That’s a MINIMUM of $10500.00 to split among roughly 18 people, a MINIMUM of $600 a drafter! This $50 minimum simply for making quota is bullshit. Our quota gets you millions a quarter.

5. I don’t owe you a gawddamn bit of loyalty. If I hear that fucking lecture one more fucking time, I’m going to scream! I took this job because at the time, no one else would hire me. Same goes for 90% of the rest of the drafters. Not to mention that to expect loyalty you must be loyal. You are only loyal to the upper management. We work our asses off and they sit on their high thrones and fill their pockets. MILLIONS. WE, the drafters, put MILLIONS into production each quarter. Salesmen see 9.5% of that in commission (a load of bullshit), our supervisor (who does NOTHING) sees .5% of that as a quarterly bonus. That .5% is SUPPOSED to be divided among the DRAFTING DEPARTMENT, not stop with the drafting director! We see NOTHING for our hard work except the heel of your boot, and you expect us to be loyal? Fuck that!

Keep in mind that these are simply my rants against the company. I’m sure that once us drafters get together for our final organizational meeting, this list will expand. I’ve been there six months, some have been there six years. A few longer than that. One thing we all agree on: something has GOT to change.

I knew before dinner what I was getting myself into. I knew.

But would you believe I voluntarily spent $200 on dinner for my family???

Before I tell you my tale, let me say I AM FINE!

Really, I am.

No, honestly, I truly am.

Don’t look at me that way, I’m fine.

If you think I’m lying, I’m not; I reall am fine.

Now, if you turned away believing any of that crap, you deserve a slap. That is only a small smidgen of my stubborness. I went for a full 45minutes at work not admitting to chest pain, even after a few coworkers commented on my pale-ness. I eventually called my mother, asked her advice, which I refused (of course). As soon as I hung up, I decided I needed to go to the ER. From thence, Big Ed was called. He works not far from me and I asked him to give me a ride to the ER.

Now, let me clarify: I AM FINE. I was simply suffering from chest pain, dizziness, inability to focus, fear of fainting, and shortness of breath. The shortness of breath was caused by the chest pain; it felt like someone was stabbing my left side, a few inches below my armpit (yes, women have those) every time I took a breath — breathe shallow and it hurts less! I figured it would go away in a few minutes; it’s happened before. It didn’t. I knew I couldn’t drive, and I didn’t want to bother anyone else at work and I can’t pay for an ambulence trip.

So Big Ed showed and we went to a hospital. Thing is, I just moved here and he didn’t know of any near where either of us work. So he called his mother. No help. We ended up near his parents’ home; the closest hospital he could think of. It only took us 45 minutes to get there. Yes, I was still in pain. I was also extremely tired.

Thus starts the fun part of my day.

I am stubborn about going to a hospital for a reason. I hate doctors and I hate needles and I HATE nurses. Attribute it to my sickly childhood (no jokes from the peanut gallery *CO-BIGED-UGH*). Oh, and I hate paperwork. And being asked the same question a hundred million times.

Nurses don’t know how to ask the right questions. They force you to speak while you’re panting for breath and refuse to allow your accompaniment to answer any questions or walk with ya back to the curtain room. I was utterly alone, breathless, and being asked the same questions over and over. I understand it is to see if my story was straight, but I couldn’t concentrate nor focus, and I’m willing to bet I answered the same question a million different ways, each of which concluding that I couldn’t breathe because of the chest pain. I had an inkling of what was wrong, I just never had a chance to butt in and tell them. They figured they knew all based on how I came into the ER. I sat quietly with the thermometer in my mouth while they did my blood pressure and O2 level. If my mother were there, she’d be chiding me up one side and down the other; my O2 level was upper 60s. But that’s not what shocked me; my blood pressure was 157/103! And that was after it had gone down for an hour or so! Temp was normal and after my wrist tags (one for ID and one for a pennicillin allergy) were snapped on, I was led in a maze back to the curtains of the less serious, but still important, ER patients.

More questions. I saw so many nurses and financial aid people that it’s all a blur. I was in the middle of an exam by another nurse when I was asked for information regarding creating a chart for me when the lady finally realized I was dazed and asked for permission to dig in my purse for my driver’s license. Thank God for new nurses! (she later confessed she was from the Death Valley area and was here for an internship and they had her running paper work)

Blurs later I am with the doctor who actually sits and listens while I, exhaustedly, explain that I am weaning myself off Propranalol, which I am taking for a fast and irregular heart rate. I am weaning off of it because my new cardiologist explained that it fucks up my asthma and blocks all asthma treatments. I tried to explain how I had gone from two 5mg tablets a day down to one, and now down to half. I tried to explain how it didn’t take long to cut back, but this last step from half a pill to no pill killed me after two days, which is why I’ve been down to it for over two weeks now.

Just as I suspected, it was this weaning off that caused my blood pressure to spike. The doctor was shocked my cardiologist hadn’t prescribed a bridge medicine for the blood pressure, especially considering both my parents have blood pressure issues (it’s the same thing with my other cardiologist and her "no, even though your whole entire family has something wrong with their heart, you don’t have a single problem or anything to worry about").

I was sent to xray sometime after that, and had to fill out massive paperwork stating that I am not pregnant nor could be pregnant; legal shit to keep the hospital from being at fault if I shockingly turned up pregnant and the baby deformed. Lungs and heart, I was told, looked fine. I wanted to see for myself, but I never get to anymore. They let children; they don’t know what they’re looking at–they just hink it looks cool. But us older ones? Nope. We know too much. We’ll ask annoying questions that could lead somewhere.

Then the lady with the new pill showed up. I now enjoy Hydrochlorothiazide — a diuretic medicine (it makes you peeeee like crazy). I was prescribed vicodin and advised to either start eating more potassium rich foods or begin a potassium supplement regimine. Goody; I’m allergic to bananas, so my next choices? Squash, zuchini, and green leafies! Aren’t squash and zuchini out of season right now? Spinach it is! (you can hear Big Ed’s groan, can’t you?)

They did one last blood pressure check before sending me out into the world; this time, roughly an hour later, it was 136/83 (O2 level at 73). Still high, but decently lower than when I arrived!

I actually went to bed before 10. I was so exhausted on the way home that it took a phone call to my mother to keep me from passing out! She chastized me (of course) and then sent well wishes and love from the family. Did I mention I was so exhausted I was slurring my words? I somehow managed to stay awake while Big Ed hunted down food (our Chinese restaurant that delivers has shut down). I was in no condition to attempt cooking and Big Ed was in no mood to. KFC was brought and I started to fall asleep halfway through my meal (but I didn’t let Big Ed know; though I’m sure he noticed).

Then I spent my sleeping hours half consiously finding my way to the bathroom, which has left me so exhausted today that I’m actually glad I was ordered not to go to work today.

I just googled this drug they want me to take. Wanted to see if I was suffering from some side effects from that solitaire dose they gave me. Let’s see…

What are the possible side effects of hydrochlorothiazide?
·dizziness, especially when you switch to sitting or standing from a lying position Nope
·tingling or numbness in your arms, legs, hands, or feet Nope
·excessive urination Yup
·muscle weakness or cramps Yup
·increased hunger Heh, bowl of oatmeal AND waffles! or thirst Oy! Yup
·nausea Nope or decreased appetite Nope
·abdominal pain Yup
·sensitivity to sunlight Simply light in general
·impotence I pray not!

Interesting, no? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and call the hospital; I forgot to mention I qualify for Indian Health Services, which might actually pay for my visit! Then I must call my cardiologist and let him know I went to the ER and set up a follow up visit with him. Then I’m going to finish my homework (or try to) and then write up a list of To-Do for Big Ed (he told me to, people, I’m not the nagging type and I’m NOT his wife…"YET" on both accounts). Then I will read. Somewhere in there, I’m sure I’m going to fall asleep randomly and wake up starving.

Let me say good day to you and good health!

**EDIT**

Let me rant a moment.

When I go to the ER, I fully expect to be able to call the hospital the next day and inquire about billing, something I wasn’t able to deal with the night before!

I just got off the phone. The hospital sent me in circles and the last nurse to talk to me COPPED AN ATTITUDE with me because I had struggled to speak in a civil tone!

"To hell with it!" I thought. Then I decided to look up the hospital on the internet. The [contact us] button is always good, right? Not when you are insured a 2day turn around on any email!

Thank you for contacting [hospital]. Your correspondence is important to us. It has been assigned a tracking number, [xxxxx], and is currently being routed to an appropriate company representative. You should expect a reply within two business days.

Best regards,
[hospital]

This pisses me off! I qualify for Indian Health Services, which is how I get free health care regarding my cardiologist visits. I didn’t think of it last night, but my mother mentioned it and said that as long as the hospital knows within 24hrs of a visit, IHS will pay for it. Well, I called. One lady sent me here, another there. Pretty soon I was back where I started. With this 2day email reply, I might as well kiss this goodbye and pay the lovely little ER fee.

Fuckers.

Where is everybody?
Too busy to stop and say "hi"?
Or too busy gawking at my lack of breasts/ass in the Vday post?
Or just gawking in general?

I’m going to admit this once, and only once:
I’m a comment whore; I collect comments and adore them.
Why have the comments all of a sudden stopped?!?!?!?

HELL! ONLY TWO!?!?!?! Normally a post like that last would generate a few dozen! But just TWO!?!?!?

I *was* going to post about my long weekend.

Then I realized I didn’t want to do that.

I decided I wanted to sit and bitch.

I try not to do such a thing, but shit happens, y’know?

So Friday the boyfriend calls me for lunch.

At 2:30 in the afternoon.

(yes, this is how the whole post will be written.

if you don’t like it, too damn bad.

i’m in this kind of mood, fuck off)

I hurriedly tell everyone I’m IM’ing that I’ll be back shortly and run outside.

He had called from the car saying he was turning onto my street–

–he didn’t ask me to go to lunch, he told me to go to lunch.

So I had dropped my jobsearch. And you know for what?

Silence in the car across town to his favorite sandwhich shop.

Listening to a phone argument between him and his mom.

Getting fun poked at me because I’m "fat".

Stretched and strained silence on the way back to his house.

Listening to an hour of bickering between him and his mother–

–He basically proves his ass is lazy and controlling.

Then getting kicked out of his house as soon as I finish my sandwich.

…He had to go pick up his friend and bring him over for some videogames.

I didn’t call him any that night.

Nor the next day.

I called him at midnight (roughly an hour or so ago).

The fucker sounded pissed at me because I didn’t check in with him this weekend.

I had spent the weekend doing gawd knows what in his mind.

And I’m tired of hearing I should dump his ass.

Up until now I thought it would get better.

No harm, no foul, at least in my mind;

We just aren’t the same people we were when we started dating.

We have nothing in common anymore.

…Unless us both being stubborn, hard headed asses counts.

The ring he gave me for Christmas is a sham.

No meaning, no love.

To quote him exactly:
There is no emotion nor meaning behind it.
I gave it because you asked for it.

Peace offering?

At first that’s what I thought.

But now I think that he thinks diamonds are what I want.

No.

Never.

Not in a million years.

My sex life now revolves around how many batteries I have.

My last 16 pack of batteries is lasting longer than it has ever lasted before.

You know how much self-control that takes???

And me not having a job means no money for more batteries….

Let’s discuss THAT, shall we?

I can’t get a nice job because I’m not experienced enough.

Or because I don’t have a degree.

And I can’t get a small high-schooler job either.

Ya know why?

Because I’m too experienced.

And "other people need a chance to earn experience too."

I guess, if you can’t tell, that I am fucked.

I posted my budget last post, please reread that…

…It’ll give you an idea of how not happy I am right now.

Oh yea, before I forget: It’s MiLK Day. (and, just so you know, i have a rant involving this. but i won’t go into it)

Practically engaged. That’s how you could describe me.

And yet….

And yet I find myself nearly at the edge of madness ready to pounce the next stiff cock I see.

You see, I have a problem. The problem is I haven’t been honest with you all. I’m not practically engaged. I’m as far from it as a Satan is from asking forgivness and entering Heaven, probably farther. We’ve been fighting. And when we haven’t been fighting we’ve been not seeing each other. I believe the last time I really saw him, touched him, slept with him, was the hotel night of my Christmas party for the company! THAT WAS NEARLY A WHOLE MONTH AGO! Since then I have met up with him for a few hours for random crap, none of it involving any kind of sexual anything!

Tension, people, tension. Sexual tension, frustration tension, stress tension; you name it, I’m suffering. Is it any wonder I sat and cleaned my closet today? Went through my clothes, shoes, everything, and decided I need to have a yard sale? I’M VOLUNTARILY RE-SELLING SHOES!?!?!?!?!!?!??! I’m shocking myself!

It’s no longer about losing weight and maintaining a decent size. It’s no longer about whether or not he thinks my friends are good people or not. No, I’ve been away from him too long. I know I said a relationship is about independence, but you can’t be distant through the holiday season, controlling when you’re near, and pushy when you want something and expect a person to cater to your demands. I’m sorry, yes I do love you, but I have needs, I have feelings, and you…..

I tell him, freely, I love him. I don’t think he understands how deeply I love him, and it hurts when he pays no attention to me. I knew he had to go visit his grandparents for the holidays, I knew he had to make a five hour trip to pick up a car for his aunt, but I figured he’d have the decency to tell me before he left!

After the New Years fiasco at his place, I decided I would NOT call him up. If he wanted to be mad at me, I wasn’t going to put myself in the terrible position of hearing it over and over. So I gave you a case of BlueBalls; big fucking deal! I have needed some attention WAY OVER simply the last few hours!

I figured he’d call me if and when he wasn’t simmering anymore. Know what I got? A text. I had foregone any hope of hooking up with him for Sunday and went out with a pal. Roundabout 11pm or so I get a text "In XXXX" - the five hour drive to his grandfather’s for the holidays and to grab his aunt’s car. You know how pissed that made me!!?!?!?!?!?

I immediately texted him back asking when he would be home. No answer.

I wound up staying the night at the pal’s place. Not because I was furious with C, but because we had lost track of time with our cleaning binge and moviefest. It was quite unplanned and unexpected. I didn’t even have my toothbrush! It was a catastrophe! No brush, no clean thong, no change of clothes, NOTHIN!

That next morning, really roundabout noon or so I get a reply from C. ‘Bout eight he’d be home. That’s a whole afternoon for me to waste and enjoy, right? So I shopped.

Window shopped. But I had met up with TJ for this part; he wasn’t too into me simply window shopping. No, he had to spoil me. Payback, maybe? I spend too much for Christmas (or so he says) and he drags me about forcing me to spend his money! Eh, new pair of fancy stilletos, swimsuit, and a new outfit don’t hurt anyone (not even his wallet; two of the things were 75% off).

Back with Mickey later; our cleaning binge led us to her closet. Then led to my room, resulting in the six pair sell-off.

Through all this, C has been nothing but a pain to me. He calls, finds out I’m with Mickey, gets huffy, then about an hour later asks for a ride up to campus for books. Tomorrow should be interesting.

With all these distressed feelings I’m developing from recent arguments, I’m more worked up than ever. I’m slowly becoming more inclined to follow through with the urges rampaging through my system. That wouldn’t be so terrible, really, if I happened to be single.

Could you classify me as single? I am wearing a ring, but it’s not an engagement ring. Hell, it ain’t even a promise ring! He’s trying to make peace and wants to buy it from me. I’m quite tempted to take it off, but I know that if I do, it’ll stir more trouble.

So I lied. No sex with C since Dec16. My toys….Dear Lord have they eaten batteries like candy! One point in there I had to stop using one because it was nearly to full power and it started to heat beyond holdability. Any more play woulda caused a fire! DAMNIT!

Am I making any sense whatsoever? I mean, I’ve been cleaning all day, the dust has invaded and overtaken my head. My head is pounding and my chest hurts and my asthma inhalers have yet to kick in *shocked*.

I think I shall go to bed. But before I do, I want to leave you with something. This is a song that captured me as a child. I sharked the radio for this song, I sharked the music stations on TV for this video. Originally released 1990, this song…. It influenced me quite a bit, though you may not notice much. Remind me later and I’ll tell you all about my elementary slave; he carried my books everywhere.

That Kind Of Girl
Patty Loveless

I’m that kind of girl, oh whoa
I’m that kind of girl, oh whoa

Contacted FamilyFriend. I have a serious job offer in OKC. They want to know how good I am before they say anything definate.

I told C. I figured he’d be happy — A serious job offer, a steady income once more, and no more fighting about me spending all my free time with the "bad" friends here.

As soon as he found out where I’d be staying (I have a house in SmallTown, roughly an hour and a half or so from Jobsite) and making my home until the weekend courses back down this way (yea, that’ll be fun), he hit the roof. Apparently I can’t go stay in SmallTown because when we broke up, that’s where I "partied it up". I did little partying; felt the whole time like a piece of shit for searching for fun.

Direct quote from our recent IM:
C: and this is of course the town with more awesome friends
Me: what?
C: ppl u went to hang out with when we broke up
Me: point is?
C: just makes me feel nice and cozy inside thats all

And the winner is…..

….(drumroll please)….

…..BUST!

Now, this wouldn’t be so terrible if this included some hilarious anecdote about someone busting out of their pants or busting out in a terrible dance move or just plain busting out of a shirt. My luck included not being able to get ahold of a good friend, leaning my head on an annoyed shoulder, falling asleep watching random tv movies, Serenity, Serenity’s deleted scenes, and a piece of the Twilight Zone marathon.

I was quite rudely shoved out of the house at 4am by his mother, who was supposed to be out of state, and outdoors, C propositioned me for some fun in my car.

Normally, I wouldn’t mind, I would accept. However, the way he has been the last few weeks, the way he treated me the last time I showed up (cold as ice), the way he even stated intentions for the morning…. I mean, HELL! Would you allow your boyfriend to lay a hand on you if he put it this way: "C’mon, you use your mouth and I’ll use my fingers; you like it that way"???????? First off, I’m not in the mood for that! I want COCK! And not in my mouth! I’m in terrible need! And second, DON’T TELL ME WHAT I LIKE, GAWDAMNIT! I don’t LIKE that at all! I merely put up with it because I know it leads to something I’ll really enjoy!

I didn’t even get any alcohol.

I didn’t even get to see the 2005 ball drop!

I didn’t even get my midnight kiss! I got a small peck!

When I was quite rudely sent home, I up and left. I didn’t say any goodbyes, ‘cept to C, and I came straight home; something I would have loved to have avoided. Even had a terrible time when I got here! We are remodeling, the office is becoming LittleOne’s bedroom, and being as tired as I am, I forgot that part. This included opening the door, setting off the alarm, and getting cornered trying to get to the keypad. Imagine having to deal with the cops at 4:30am into the first of the New Year!

I really hope other people had a better New Year Party time. Read the post below for my resolutions!

(and yes, Jeth, complain. Zeh are quite huge. I’m sure Zelda complains a fair bit too)

…Now I’m off to eat, as my first meal of the day, blackeye peas and hog jaul (however you spell it), for good luck in this new year. If I haven’t said it before, let me say it now (or again) :

0110100001100001
0111000001110000
0111100101101110
0110010101110111
0111100101100101
0110000101110010

(or for those less geeky: happy new year)

It’s the Friday before Christmas, Christmas Eve eve, and my household is in an uproar.

Really it’s just me and my life.

See, after being locked out of my own house, my car not starting, and all the bullshit from family issues insuing, I walk out of my house yesterday for some fun.

But I find no real fun. The mall is closing so there are a ton of sales, however Mickey is all "malled" out and since she’s my ride, I can’t stick around. We head to blockbuster and then out to Mother & J’s place.

While there, I get a ton of "you need to leave him" comments, "he’s no good for you" tales, and anything and everything under the sun that is NOT making me get to feeling better about my recent fighting with C.

Then he calls. He’s off work and we can do a blockbuster night if I wish; I just have to keep in mind he’s got a dungeon to run at 8. It’s 6:15 and I’m a 15min drive away, getting me there (at Mickey’s driving route) at roughly 6:45. An hour or so for a movie? Nuh uh.

Being me, I view this as a way to still spend some time with him; I’ll sit and watch movies on his bed while he’s on the computer next to me–the time between him dying and being ressurected could be spent chatting about his day. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked out. When his game was finished (for the moment) it was time for him to drive me home (not having a car–again–sucks ass).

Where did we stand on our recent arguments? Everything was fine except one issue. That issue was the determining factor in a million things between us. Two stubborn and controlling asses can’t be in a relationship together, especially on an issue of this magnitude. It didn’t bother him all that much before (the whole "we’re not getting married" train of thought) but as soon as we committed ourselves to truly being serious (I do believe me more so than him), it became a thorn in his side.

And I was SO looking forward to a huge blowout in front of his mother, too. *sigh*

Oh, his family…yes, we are still doing the whole Christmas thing. One of the thorns in my side this week was the fact that I kept asking what WE were getting his brother, sister, and their significant others and then he goes out after work with his brother and does all the shopping and leaves no possibility for US to do anything together for the family. Over three years together: that’s long enough for AT LEAST both names to be on gifts, don’t you agree? I mean, Hell, I KNOW it’s long enough for his mother to question why I wasn’t invited to her birthday dinner–especially when his sister (who made reservations) planned for me to be there!

I have so many grievances I could go on and on. But that wouldn’t do justice to the times we were happy, now would it? He helped me see that last night. I have a problem with only talking about people when something terrible happens; I never praise them enough. Well, most people. Mother and Mickey seem to think that I praise a certain male pal of mine much more than any one person deserves. That’s not really saying anything, really.

Originally I thought it was just my day, now I realize it’s my whole week. Lovely prelude to Christmas, no? The upbeat part though is I recieved my gifts, though I wasn’t able to drive out to get them. Three CDs. Soundtracks to Nightmare Before Christmas, Corpse Bride, and a Tom Waits CD I’d asked for.

I think I’m going to run off to Mervyns; they’re going out of business and I have to see what, if anything, is left to snag for myself or more Christmas gifts while I "cheerupshop". Look forward to my Christmas post!

The Temptress You are the one who comes into people’s dreams at night to drive them mad with desire. You are sultry, sexy, and passionate. Others find you hypnotic. You have the sort of smoldering eyes and bedroom glances that are the stuff of egend. What’s so scary about you: Like sweet poison, you are addictive and deadly. Your gemstone: Garnet Your moon: Rose Moon (July)

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Must thank el sid for the link to that lovely little quiz. Dead on about the temptress part. Excepting my recent weight gain…. Yes, I am alive. I’ve been fighting with the family again. Seeing as there are 6 of us in a 4bed and soon to be 7…you see the reason for the tension. I’m fighting for interviews right now, but it being the holiday season…I doubt I’ll get much. I’ve already had four ignored messages from a very promising company looking for about 150 AutoCAD people and been stood up about three times for interviews from another company. Still living in this house, my parents have decided I am still governed by their rules, which I’m fine with; it’s the whole "while you’re under my roof" syndrome. Well, yesterday they hid my keys. Seems that if I don’t have a job or interviews, I can’t drive anywhere. THAT was too far and extremely uncalled for. So I hitched rides with Mickey. I felt really terrible about that, then got pissed at her for her decisions. Next post, mehbeh. Well, seeing as they had my keys, I was locked out when it came time for me to go to bed. Imagine my fun! Troubles in paradise with C too. That’s driving me up the wall. I honestly love him, but the way things are going, I will have to give him up. He despises Mother and Mickey and Mandy too much and I refuse to stop seeing my girls. This morning I came home after staying at Mickey’s and then grabbing StarBucks and shopping. As soon as I got my keys back, I was headed off to pick up a Christmas gift from a pal. But, alas, that was not meant to be! My.car.won’t.start. The ignition turns, the engine turns over, but the engine won’t start! It has 1/2 a tank of gas, it’s in park, and there are no blown fuses. Don’t give me the crap my dad tried to feed me; it IS getting fuel–you can smell it!! Oh! My dad! Wonderful news. He’s getting old. He’s in his fifties. Really not old, but he’s getting there. Griping about this and that and was put on Viagra awhile back to control his blood pressure. Well now, the poor guy, is on a liquid diet–he has a colonoscopy Friday. Ouch! And keeping to family news: If I haven’t told you already, my teenage sister is pregnant. Not even out of highschool yet. What a shame. And Mom is all in an uproar–with nesting. She’s registered with every online shop and is disgustingly favoring her. Her "house arrest" lasted less than a week; she’s out more than I am, and I’m quite legal to go everywhere! They went out and got her checked out and got an ultrasound. Her baby, so far, looks like a baby chicken (didn’t know we were related to NonGirlfriend!!).

Um…

Not sure if there’s any other exciting news. I do have a Christmas post coming up. Not for the sensitive. ‘Course neither am I. I I’m missing something. I have been all week….

Unbeknownst to you all, since about a week before Thanksgiving, I set a goal to lose roughly 10-15lbs. No big deal right?

Well, somehow, instead of losing weight, I GAINED over 30lbs!!!!

Now, remember, I was sick over Thanksgiving, so I barely munched. Turkey isn’t to blame this year!

There is now a counter atop meh blog. Yes, I really do weigh over 150lbs now. It has me in tears. The ideal weight for someone my height and body type is really between 105 and 125. I enjoyed being 105, but that was WAY before my boobs grew up to the 34DDs I have now. I figure I can work off the stomach in no time–I mean, I’ve done THAT one before. The ass? The thighs? With a ton of work! I’m really afraid my chest will downsize too; I mean, weight loss does that to some women, y’know? They’re so perfect and round as they are…and perky and firm…and I’m a little afraid that they will be all floppy….

…Tell me this is an irrational fear!

Anyway, I’m determined to lose those 40lbs. And I’m not listening to Eric; muscle may be denser than fat, but I’m not going for muscle!!

So, other than running and dieting and working through my small routine, any suggestions?

Y’all know I hate up’n'moving.

Especially knowing what it took before I left last time and came here.

Well, this time, my moving has been caused by one lovely little bitch of a wife of one of my more devout readers. Yes, she is the one and same as the previous posts.

Only now, she has gone so far as to harass me, not only on AIM, but on my own blog as well.

It is too much of a hassle to ban her IP because she comes right back on another. I do believe I have banned three so far. I’m tired of it and I don’t want to play any games anymore.

My site will be moving in a few days. This domain will stay active, the posts will become invisible, and only those I know and trust will gain access to the new.

And to the lady who believes that she may have won, I do hope your husband realizes how much of a bitch you are to a complete stranger and leaves you. I hope he takes your beloved dogs with him and you lose your beauty–you know, the abundant bounty you seem to think I could ever compete with. I didn’t mind the AIM, but the comments were too much. Enough, I think, that I *could* take you to court for harassment, but I don’t want to bother with someone like you.

To my lovely and devout readers, I leave punishment to this lady up to you. [HERE] is her buzznet (*link removed for MY privacy). I am not saying harass her, I’m just saying you should know who was responsible for my departure once again.

x Beer-and-Nachos

I admit to being not quite right in the head. Get used to it.

A lot of what I’ll type will contradict an earlier post or a later post. Deal with it.

I take NO responsibility to spousal arguments or underage viewing. Got it?

Unbeknownst to you all, since about a week before Thanksgiving, I set a goal to lose roughly 10-15lbs. No big deal right?

Well, somehow, instead of losing weight, I GAINED over 30lbs!!!!

Now, remember, I was sick over Thanksgiving, so I barely munched. Turkey isn’t to blame this year!

There is now a counter atop meh blog. Yes, I really do weigh over 150lbs now. It has me in tears. The ideal weight for someone my height and body type is really between 105 and 125. I enjoyed being 105, but that was WAY before my boobs grew up to the 34DDs I have now. I figure I can work off the stomach in no time–I mean, I’ve done THAT one before. The ass? The thighs? With a ton of work! I’m really afraid my chest will downsize too; I mean, weight loss does that to some women, y’know? They’re so perfect and round as they are…and perky and firm…and I’m a little afraid that they will be all floppy….

…Tell me this is an irrational fear!

Anyway, I’m determined to lose those 40lbs. And I’m not listening to Eric; muscle may be denser than fat, but I’m not going for muscle!!

So, other than running and dieting and working through my small routine, any suggestions?

Scooby was in an accident on Friday and I didn’t find out until I was looking for a ride to work yesterday. Her little bitty car was totalled by a huge SUV. She drove an old Honda–I’m talking old old old; pre-airbag days. According to all reports she and her bf shouldn’t've lived; he should have come away with more than a broken ankle and seatbelt burns at the very least!!

She’s not about, won’t be until Wednesday at the earliest. From what I’ve heard from those who saw her yesterday as she walked about to pick up enough work to keep her from being bored, she looks horrible. Her nose was busted up, broken or fractured in 5 different places, her top lip was fully split in two, and her chubchub (also known as lovehandles) were all marked up, bruised, and stitched. She had to have emergency surgery on Saturday. But she’s alive and walking and somewhat talking. CheerBitch (an ex-cheerleader who is very insensitive and self centered) said that she pities Scooby because "[Scooby] will never be as pretty as she was." Like it all orbits looks! Yea, Scooby may look a fright for a few months, but I’m proof that a broken nose doesn’t do harm; though her’s is much worse, it will heal soon and she’ll be pretty once more. More so for what she’s been through.

And not to turn this back to me….
(ok, so I did mean to…it’s my site damnit!)
I think back to the accident I passed by last Tuesday; if things had gone differently, I’d've been part of it. Scooby had invited me and C to go along with her and PrettyBoy (her boyfriend) to dinner, offering to have me ride with her and let C catch up to us after work. I turned her down with the reason that I’d been with her and him all afternoon and I had already made plans with C for later (a lie at that point in time. I know what it’s like to be around people all day when you secretly yearn to be alone with one member of the group, so I turned the offer down) She left the bowling alley and went on her way to dinner, made it past all the majorly terrible intersections, then got hit at Walnut and Plano, two major streets that I bypassed with sideroads on my way to play poker with C and his buds a few hours after the crash that I didn’t know about until Monday.

See how informed people keep me?

Sunday Chase came over. He needed to finish a paper and I needed someone to console me about the loss of my blog and the recent shit I’ve found myself in, so instead of having him over for fun, he was there to lend his support and keep me company. He was expecting some fun, I knew it, but I also knew that if we did anything, he’d never get to his paper. My solution: set up my laptop for him to work on while I curled up on the bed with my physics problems. There’s a problem here; my room is a sauna, especially when there are two or more people in close quarters. I was able to pull off the excuse "still on the dot" (even though it was a lie) and keep him from getting too frisky, but he still needed the release he’d been expecting. I wasn’t against giving him *some* fun. An’ ’sides, I needed something to eat; I hadn’t eaten since the two tuna sandwiches at 11am for an early lunch.

But that’s not the center of this post. It’s what happened last night that is. I told him Monday that I really was finished and that I hadn’t been in the mood for anything Sunday night. Small white lie beneficial to both of us: he finished his paper and I had a comforting soul keeping me company. And last night he pissed me off.

He gave me that necklace for Vday. Purrrfectly Purrrty diamonds. He likes to try to get me jealous with talk of other girls and knows it upsets me, but I’m "pretty damn sexxxy" when I get possessive. He started the talk talking about the one girl I have issues with him being around. She has her belly button, nipples, and recently her tongue pierced. He doesn’t want to see me with my bellybutton pierced ("it’s stupid"); he’d rather see me with my nipples, or at the very least my tongue, pierced. I flat out refused and told him I’m going with my bellybutton whether he liked it or not.

"Then I’m going to come over and take that necklace back. I still have the reciept, it’ll buy a few new games!"

Uh, whaaa? Fuck.You. That pissed me off. Then his buds showed up; "Sorry babe, but I’m in good, clean, honest company, and I can’t be talking to a trickery person like you. Bye" -click-

What.The.Fuck.

I was fuming by the time he called me back later that night. I didn’t let it be known. I asked him to explain himself about the "trickery person" comment. It was about lying to him and tricking him into not getting any sex Sunday night. He then repeated his "taking back the necklace" comment. Normally I’d let it go. But recently I’ve been dragged through Hell and made to feel worth less than a whore, and here he is talking of taking back a gift of diamonds and gold because he didn’t get sex. How the fuck do you think I feel?!?!? I was livid, but my voice betrayed naught. He’ll get his due today (or tonight, whenever I see him). One thing’s for certain: if he can’t realize how I feel from that, if he can’t understand why that simple joke made me feel like shit, he ain’t gettin any for a week, and he can take that damn necklace if he wants!

And, yes, he was joking. A very poor joke, especially when I can hardly tell when he’s joking from when he’s not joking.