Learning new things...

Wow!  I’m on a roll!  I cannot believe it’s November when it seems like just a couple days ago I was complaining about my eating habits (or lack thereof).  Ok, so what have I learned in the past few weeks? 

Well, I’ve learned that I like red wine…who knew?  Also, when carving ginormous pumpkins, an electric saw works great!  However, be cautioned that you will find pumpkin juice in places you never dreamed!

I’ve learned that I absolutely could care less about pool chemicals, even though that is my job – and doing public relations with people who cannot look you in the eye when talking to you and every other word out of their mouth is “Well…you know…?”  Are grounds for stabbing yourself with a fork.  It was a lunch meeting – red wine wasn’t allowed.

I learned that Pee Wee playoff games are extremely stressful, and it’s very hard convincing eighteen 9-year old boys that a 5-1-1 record is a fantastic record; and team parties planned for 10 in the morning should have a breakfast menu – not a boiled hot dog and soda pop menu.  Again, no red wine.

I learned that I don’t like Nair ® and I think it’s important that you read the directions on any bottle that claims CREAM can remove unwanted hair in 6 minutes!  Had plenty of red wine to numb the pain!!

I witnessed my son’s first pimple.  And when he asked me “Mom what is this?” And I said, “Well baby, it looks like a pimple.”  His response was “Oh, well at least it’s not a ZIT!”  I laughed so hard I spit coffee out my nose!

I learned that sometimes, it’s not about the effort you put forth, but knowing when to say “At least I tried”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another Boring Post...

Has it really been over a month since I last bitched?  Wow, and so much has happened.  I’ve probably done 42 loads of dishes, 22 loads of laundry, filled my gas hog up 3 times and have consumed 12 turkey sandwiches, 1 tuna sandwich and made a really bad decision to eat a Cup-O-Noodles.  I’ve also managed to do absolutely zero workouts and have become a huge advocate for sleeping in. 

Aside from housework and attempting the world record for hitting the ‘snooze’ button the most consecutive times in the mornings (I’m at 7 now I think), I’ve been enjoying my second home at the football field; and have become a self-admitted ‘crazy side-line parent’ who stalks the sidelines at the football field during games.

In all honesty, I’ve been leaning on my cousin (a.k.a. “Drill Sergeant J”) the past few weeks to help me through this hurdle that I call food.   I asked him for help earlier this month when I realized that it had been over a month since I last attempted a workout.  In addition to that it was brought to my attention that my energy levels are low because I was completely unaware that coffee, cigarettes and caffeine pills were not part of the 4 major food groups.  Drill Sergeant J. has had me on an “assignment” of sorts, to track the foods I ate in a day and email him my progress for 6 days.  Of course, like any good student, I completely re-arranged my thinking and made a very valid attempt at finding foods that could keep my mouth occupied 6 times a day. 

This is harder than it sounds people.  We’re talking about someone who’s daily breakfast used to be 5 cups of coffee and a cigarette.  Lunch was either a well-balanced meal or nothing at all, and dinner was usually leftovers of what my son wouldn’t eat.

My current battle is getting my stomach to agree to my new diet.  I’m assuming since I’m not used to being so nice to my body, that my stomach has decided to go on strike since I now have been limited to non-wheat, non-spicy, non-fatty foods.  Some would call this a medical issue, however I’m assuming since these foods didn’t bother me before, I’m narrowing it down to a mild “tummy temper tantrum” in the way of vomiting and severe cramping.  Too much information, I know. 

I haven’t been very pro-active in my blogging, thinking I won’t be receiving any nominations this year for “Best Author”, that’s OK though, I’ll put that non-award right up there with “Best Mom”, “Best Daughter”, “Best Employee” and “Best Wal-Mart Shopper”. 

So focus this month is: writing more, eating healthier and avoiding “Drill Sergeant J” (at least until I’m able to lose some un-wanted weight) so my BMI assessment he is insistent on doing, won’t be as traumatic.  I’m off to make something bland and un-exciting for dinner.  

Do these pants make me look fat?

I would like to know how one obtains energy, in regards to my serious problem with laziness.  I’m not talking about the un-willingness to clean my house or go to work lazy.  Or the “lay on the couch all day” lazy, no it’s the “I can’t get my extra large ass in gear to do my workouts” lazy.  This was so much easier when I didn’t have a job.  I could do my scheduled workout at my leisure, and get everything else done that requires my attention.  Now my main goal is to make it to work on time and make sure my son has clean clothes to wear to school.  Between work, household chores, football and breathing, my mind is already made up when I even think about dressing down for a workout, it’s saying “Hell no we won’t go!”

Do you ever have those moments when you think you are on the right track and something as simple as a comment, or a picture or, I don’t know, your own reflection can make you stop dead in your tracks and your mind immediately goes into “what the hell was I thinking” mode?

Well I was finally able to get my hair done yesterday.  I haven’t been in to see my stylist since February and my disaster that I was wearing for hair was in desperate need of some TLC.  After a 2-hour bought with shampoo, conditioner, color and scissors I came out looking fresh and sophisticated.  I wore the “Yeah I know I’m cute” look all the way to my Dad’s house and felt so much better about driving with my windows down.  My Dad being my Dad said he loved my hair, so naturally he decided to take pictures – yeah flashing back to my little kid years when he would catch me on the toilet sticking my tongue out at him.  So after our visit I headed home and flipped open my laptop.  I went straight to my favorite book (Facebook) and there it was.  This horrid picture of me … and my 14 chins.  I hadn’t realized that I invited them along.  I was so wrapped up in my new “cuteness” that I didn’t see them just hanging there for everyone to look at!  “Oh look at the girl with the cute hair – and her chins are with her! Everyone look at the girl with chins!”  What’s even worse is my Dad actually thinks that his new camera is doing me some favor.  Yeah, if he stood across the street and took the picture, maybe.  But no, he had to put his super duper heavy-duty ultra “let me get all the pores on your face” lens on.  There truly is nothing worse than seeing a picture of yourself and thinking, “do I really look like that?”  Why didn’t someone tell me?  You are your own worst critic, I get that.  But seriously people.

So, it was at this precise moment that I realized that, aside from mental counseling, I’m in need of some treadmill therapy, or fat camp.  Probably both.  For now, I’m going to go sulk and tuck my chins in for the night.

 

Mom of the Year!

I know I mentioned in one of my blogs a while back that I wasn’t one to talk or write about my child.  It’s not because I don’t think he isn’t the most amazing kid e-v-e-r, it’s simply the point that a lot of people out there write about how wonderful their kids are and quite frankly, I don’t want to lose my reputation of being a thoughtless bitch.  So, on that note, I’m so going to win “Mom of the Year” this year.  I just know it!  In order for one to be awarded such a high honor, you truly need to be on top of your game.  I know, I know, I exude kindness and such a loving attitude, you’re not surprised – I can’t blame you.   

So here it is.  If you Mom’s out there want to know how to achieve such a feat, simply follow these simple acts of love and kindness:

1)   Forget to pick your child up at school at LEAST 4 different times during the school year.  And to make it especially fantastic, make sure you make your child wait long enough so his teacher has to call to remind you to come get him.  Awesome!

2)   Completely lose your cool and temper and ramble off mindless nonsense when he sprays your charcoal drawing with Pledge.  As an added bonus, cry about it.

3)   Forget to feed him dinner, at minimum, 3 times a week. 

4)   When school starts, make certain you do not buy any school supplies until the day after.  Kids totally dig showing up the 1^st day with no school supplies.

5)   Completely space the fact that school is starting and let it escape your mind that new school clothes are a necessity.  Instead, throw a dirty pair of shorts in the wash and tell them because they are clean, it’s almost better than new clothes!

If you follow these easy tasks, in no time you will be quite possibly the best Mom ever! 

Ok, for real, I’m an asshole.  With my loss of my old job and the stress of my new job, I have recently realized that I have been quite possibly, the worst Mom this past year!  I truly cannot afford to pay attention, and to boot; I’ve become such a hypocrite! The above is just a small sample of my inattentiveness.  The most recent action came last week when he started Pee-Wee Football.  Anyone who has played football knows that the first week is considered “hell” week.  You work your ass off and begin to regret the decision to beg your parents to put you in the coolest sport out there! 

The last day of practice was the icing on the cake.  He just finished a 2-mile run and a grueling round of push-ups, flutter kicks, sit-ups and up-downs in 100-degree weather with a helmet and pads on.  When the coach (my fiancé) released the boys for a water break, my son came walking up to me, barely able to move one foot in front of the other.  Mind you, I was the one sitting on my ass on nice cushy blanket with ice water.   Anyway - I was waiting there with a jug full of water to pour over him, and in a regrettable moment he says to me “Don’t touch me, I’m tired and fed up and don’t want to be me anymore!”  I immediately transformed into psycho Mom  and said, “Excuse me? Don’t touch you?  Look little man, you wanted to play football!  This is the last day of hell week and need to just suck it up!  Oh, and for future reference, you don’t get to talk to me like that!”  He apologized, hugged me and walked away with his head down. 

It was at that moment that I realized that my son was simply exhausted and felt completely defeated.  Something that I have felt all summer long.  I had no reason to yell at him, especially since I can barely do a lap around the block, let alone 2-miles in the sickening heat!  My guilt has completely overwhelmed me and I’ve come to the realization that I am a huge hypocrite, in need of a major attitude adjustment.  I started reflecting on the past year and can honestly say, that I have been an absolute creep to deal with.  It was with this epiphany that I have decided I am a definite contender for “Mom of the Year”.  With my unbelievable ability to snap like a twig, space off everything of importance and reprimand my child for not “being tough” in hellish conditions, these are all qualities that a loving, caring Mother possesses! 

So, for the record; my son is quite possibly the most exhilarating child a Mom could ask for.  And sometimes, I feel like I don’t deserve him.  He puts up with a lot from me.  And I would like to take this time, to thank him – for putting up with me.

Warning! Warning Will Robinson!

Is there a point to this blog? No.  You’ve been forewarned. 

While walking the track at my son’s Peewee Football camp with my friend, she asked me how my day was and in the course of 30 minutes, I did nothing but regurgitate bitterness.  On my drive home I realized that I am one bitchy, moody, irritable cat who is in dire need of some rehab. For some reason, this new job is really kicking my ass, which is leading to my lack of workouts, which is causing me to be more susceptible to homicidal tendencies when Mother Nature decides to visit.  My stress level is at maximum occupancy right now and if I don’t get a handle on the whistling kettle that is going off in my head, I’m liable to do some real damage to the next heifer that shoves me out of a lane at Wal-Mart. 

Who decided that it would be an ideal thing for women to have to give up a week, every month of their life and dedicate it to Midol, chocolate and psycho wards?  I think every box of Tampax should come with emergency straight jackets so we don’t cause injury to others during a fit of rage.  Or is it just me?  I haven’t quite figured out as well, why men (some, not all) think it’s appropriate to make such comments as “Wow, someone is PMS’ing” or “Someone’s on the rag”.  No, Mr. F@ck Tard, it’s called a menstrual cycle and your mouth shouldn’t write checks your body can’t cash.  Just saying…. And since when are woman not allowed to be cranky?  Do we have to be menstruating in order to have a moment?  Can’t we just be in a bad mood?  Is that not allowed anymore? 

I completely understand now why I’ve been so damn tired and lethargic. (What gave it away right?)  I chalked it up to my new job and my new found awareness of how draining stupid people are; but it wasn’t that at all!  See I should be used to the evil that invades my personal space (once a month), after all I have dealt with it for many years.  But for some reason I blank out and for half of the month my mind goes into lock-down mode and “Phoebe the Airhead” comes out to play –yes, I’m talking about Aunt Flo.  Mood Swings, bloating, absent mindedness, irritability, lower back pain, cramps, sore gingersnaps, headaches, fatigue, and in my case, green foam spewing out of the mouth, mild turrets syndrome and the overall inability to function on all levels.

I didn’t just pick up my laptop and decide to bitch about female issues, this all stems from re-knobs that I deal with daily as well as from the cashier at Walgreens, who apparently found amusement in my tampax, chocolate and Midol purchase.  But is he judged when he buys beer, condoms and hemorrhoid cream?  Probably not!  In addition to my frustration, this issue is becoming detrimental to my workout progress.  I’m struggling – severely – with finding motivation when I feel like the “State-Puff-Marshmallow Man”.

I think I need some wall to wall therapy.

 

 

 

And Now It's Time for a Breakdown...

This is going to be short, sweet and to the point -

I am a large child when it comes to not getting my way.   I tend to get frustrated very easily (if you haven’t figured that out by now) and my teeny weeny temper sometimes gets the best of me (again, don’t think I need to clue you into that either).  When I am unable to obtain a goal or have something I want, I tend to get very snippy and I let my emotions take over.   It’s somewhat reminiscent to a 3-year old little girl throwing herself on the floor and wailing around like a wet fish, except I’m 30-something and if I were to actually throw myself on the floor it would most likely land me a dislocated hip.

I’m not going to lie; I have a very, very strong distaste for failure.  I am convinced that working out and being an “away from home” working Mom are two things that don’t mix.  Like Oil and Water.  I am not at the place where I saw myself being 2 months ago and that infuriates me.  I know people say “you have to make time for you” (yeah, in my world that’s called going potty and taking a shower) and “your only going to see results if you push yourself” (ok well, I pushed myself – right into a friggen corner and now I can’t do squat – no pun intended).  Two months ago, I made this “goal” for myself that I was going to accomplish 1 full mile of running in 5 weeks.  Simple, right?  Well in those 5 weeks, I managed a 1/2 of a mile, which slowly turned into a ¼ mile, which has now turned into zip.  (Running, that is.)  It is because of this, I feel so incredibly defeated and pissed off at the same time.  As much as my mind tells me “you’re not a quitter” my body says, “The hell you’re not!”  I cannot seem to get my act together.   And if anyone is about to say, “there is no such word, as “can’t” how about you zip it?  Yes, I’m being ugly and nasty because my body and mind are not on the same page. 

This is not productive.  I am not having a good month and I am in desperate need of a “come to Jesus” talk with myself.  

Just another whiny rant

It feels like forever since I last complained . . . I mean wrote.  It’s more than likely due to the insane demands of my “new life”.  Yes, it’s very rough getting up in the morning and driving to work.  I know what you’re thinking “build a bridge and get over it ya damn whiny twit” Ok, maybe not that harsh, but you’re thinking something similar.  Or maybe you’re thinking, “at least you have a job”.  But before I begin to analyze these pretend conversations that I think you all are having with yourselves, let me just explain something to you.  I – can’t – stand – stupid – people.  That’s it, in a nutshell.  I’m not making reference to my “new life” as a complaint about work, I’m calling it my “new life” because it has required an absurd amount of energy and focus to organize my friggen day and refrain from stealing my son’s pellet gun and start aimlessly shooting at random dumb asses along the way! 

A typical busy day (3 weeks ago) involved, job searching, fielding bullshit phone calls from “India R Us”, entertaining my 9 year old, planning dinner (macaroni and cheese is so versatile!) and of course, pretending to run.  Now? Now I run around like a striped-ass monkey trying to figure out how “working mom’s” (with extremely short tempers) do it.  I’m finding that the littlest of things irritate me (big surprise I know).  My typical morning is spent flying out of bed, realizing that my alarm clock set on the “super annoying” setting didn’t wake me up out of my coma.  Then realizing I only have time for a man shower (a.k.a. no shaving of legs involved) which then sets me into a tailspin because the outfit I spent 2 hours the night before picking out, won’t work because of the subtle stubble on my legs; and therefore I am now forced to have a minor “freak out” moment and throw on the 1 of 2 pairs of pants I own (that fit).  In addition to this lack of time, 5 times out of 7, I’ve forgotten to pack my lunch the night before and failed to prep my coffee pot, so I’m forced to microwave coffee from the day previous and throw together a mish-mash of items for lunch.  Of course come lunch-time at work I often find myself regretting the previous nights brain fart, as I have only managed to pack a pop-tart, a Tupperware container of peanut butter and a spoon. 

As if that wasn’t enough to set me off, I spend 22 minutes of my morning trying to figure out why drivers cannot understand the basics of 4-way stops and staying in their lanes!  Oh, and solid yellow lines do NOT mean pass at your leisure, then realize you can’t pass, so you flip me off instead…what??  Yes, it’s happened.  TWICE!  Work is work.  I enjoy it, the people I work with are fun, the work is fun, and the overall atmosphere is great (I know I sound like an infomercial).   

By the time 5 o’clock has hit, I’m starving, lacking energy and dreading the 45-minute drive to Wal-Mart (because doing my grocery shopping on a weekend is just crazy talk).  And while we’re on the subject of Wal-Mart, is there some ‘code’ that states if you are in a hurry you will be subject to have your patience tested at maximum capacity? What is the point of a “20 items or less” lane if the stupid person in front of you thinks that “buy one get one free” on Hostess Twinkies counts as ONE item?  But of course the checker is oblivious to the number of items because she is too busy yacking it up with the other checker about her date with “Greg” – yes, I caught his name and he doesn’t like eating at Applebee’s either.  Great!  I’ll sleep much better tonight knowing this.  So “Hostess Twinkie” boy is filling his cart up and in a pathetic attempt at flirting begins to tell ‘Chatty Cathy the Checker’ that he thinks she is too good for Greg.  Really?  I just want my beer and my milk please.  That’s it – where’s my pellet gun?  And as “Twinkie boy” is taking his sweet mary-jane time placing his bags strategically in his cart he feels the need to comment on me being carded for my beer.  [Twinkie boy] “Shoot you look old enough to be my Mom” (chuckle, chuckle).  [Me] “Wow, and they let you out without your helmet?”  (Hence my earlier comment about short tempers). 

All this being said, I have got to find a way to unwind and re-evaluate my “to-do” list.  By the time I get home I’m pissed off, fed up, cranky and starving and the last thing I want to do is cook dinner and workout.  My runs (or lack thereof) have dwindled down to 1 in the last week and a half. 

My “new life” needs serious help in the organization and stress-free department. 

Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work I go

I’ve decided to take this time to report on what I don’t miss about the 8 to 5 grind.  Please keep in mind that I am NOT ungrateful for the new job, however, I have discovered that I have been spoiled for the past 3 years by being able to work from home and now that my new job requires me to physically go somewhere other than my recliner for 8 hours a day … I’ve have realized what I DON’T miss:

1)   The completely incompetent drivers at 7:30 in the morning.  Not the ones that simply speed by you to be first at the red light; but the ones (women) that feel they need to take up both lanes while texting, applying mascara and trying to shift gears all at the speed of 55.  I’m sorry, but I too, pay taxes and I’m entitled to my own lane thank you very much (insert sigh).

2)   The “snooze” button, I am convinced, was a mistake by who ever invented the alarm clock.  This button is supposed to allow one to sleep for an extra 5 minutes, but when the alarm clocks “off” button is right next to the “snooze” button it makes for a ridiculously hazardous morning. 

3)   If you are female, you can probably relate to picking out your outfit prior to going to work (e.g. before bed, before morning shower etc.).  However, if you are me, you are used to throwing on slippers and not worrying about your coordination efforts.  I did pick my outfit out last night and was quite proud of my choice given my poor selection to choose from.  After my shower, I was puffy and hot and decided at the last minute that the outfit I chose simply would not due and therefore spent an insane amount of time trying to find a shirt that didn’t portray ‘fat ass’.

4)   Morning coffee (if you are a coffee lover) is a must!  Again, spoiled by my 12-cup coffee maker at my beck and call, I could get my coffee fix at anytime throughout my day. This morning?  A half a cup because I spent my time playing dress-up rather than drinking my coffee. 

5)    Five o’clock traffic.  I only have one thing to say about that.  I have zero tolerance for stupid drivers.  The looky loos who think they are going to miss something hugely important if they don’t stop and evaluate the pulled over vehicle, rude people who won’t merge to the fast lane so you can get onto the freeway, and angry aggressive drivers who ride your bumper like a hemorrhoid because 5 miles over the designated speed limit isn’t fast enough for them.  Apparently these people don’t know who I am.

6)   Workout?  What workout?  By the time I got home, made dinner, drank a beer (in record time) and popped a couple of Advil, I had no energy.  I know, poor me (oy oy oy).

Overall, first day was fine.  The events leading up to and prior to my day need to be restructured. 

 

 

THAT just happened

My little promise, 4 or 5 blogs ago, to workout everyday hasn’t really panned out. Why? Well because, my slothfulness has surfaced again and I’m riding it out. You know, the calm before the storm? I figure this huge surge of energy is about to come and then I’ll be able to make up for wasted time. Anyhow, I am relatively happy to report that I will officially be back on the 8 to 5 grind come Monday (insert cheering crowd). I’m sorry, no more whiny rants about this economy being an Employer’s market (although I’m going to stand by that statement) since I settled for significantly less income than what I was used to making.

Yes, I now will be able to establish my importance on Facebook with my new job title. It’s the minor details that I get excited about. However, I did come to the harsh realization that I will no longer be overindulged by the luxury of working from home and spending time with my son. I somehow kept hanging on to the hope that all the Medicare contractors out there would be knocking down my door, begging me to audit their claims. I took a very large humble pill this morning and reality is sinking in.

The only closeness I came to today in regards to humiliation was my urine test that I had to take (I didn’t study and that in of itself made me nervous). This by the book gentleman was very specific in his instructions when I went in. He took my purse from me and locked it up, then insisted I watch his every move to ensure he wasn’t contaminating the evidence. He sent me in to do my business and while I was pleased with the result, I didn’t realize he was standing right outside of the door listening to everything that was going on – I should have yelled “That’s where I put that gold…I’ve been looking for that!” but I wasn’t on my witty retort game yet this morning. So I finished up, and just as I was going to flush the toilet he yelled through the door “Don’t flush!” Good God, he scared me so bad I tooted and this bathroom is huge and it echoes! I felt my face turn about 47 shades of red and stopped dead in my tracks; teeth clenched, eyes closed and held my breath. “Please God don’t let him have good hearing, please God don’t let him have good hearing.” I quietly walked towards the door and unlocked it – praying that I didn’t leave a scented present. I examined his expression and without missing a beat, he said “I tend to do that to a lot of people”. Oh for the love of Pete! You have got to be kidding me! He heard it and felt the need to comment! I fronted a fake smile and let him take in the freshness (if any).

I claimed my purse, signed a couple of papers and went on my merry way. It took about 20 minutes to calm down from the complete and udder mortification that I had endured. So, happy day. I’m employed and gas-free, I’d say that’s a pretty successful day on my part!

Warning: Doesn't Play Well With Others

I’m sure I’m not the only person who doesn’t like telemarketers. And I don’t want to hear any crap about how they are just working to make ends meet. Yes, telemarketers do provide companies the ability to pull in clients. However, give me a telemarketer that speaks English and is from the United States, and I might have more tolerance before I politely decline their offer.

It’s not even 10:30 a.m. yet (well it will be when I finish this post), and I’ve already received 2 phone calls this morning from India. Of course the caller ID doesn’t show India, per say, it will show ‘New Jersey’ or some BS like that, but when I answer it, it’s pretty apparent that it’s India. Why is India calling me? Well because someone thought it would be a good idea to give all the peeps in Delhi telemarketing jobs because they can make $8 an hour over there and live like kings! That’s great, I’m happy for them. Really. However, what I cannot stand is people, especially telemarketers named ‘Srikant’ trying to pull a fast one on me by telling me their name is ‘Brad’. Yeah, and I’m ‘Surhbi’.

First phone call: ‘Brad’ from The Idaho Statesman called wanting to know if I would like to renew my subscription. Again – caller ID said ‘New Jersey’ so I KNOW that New Jersey could give a shit less about our Idaho Statesman newspaper. Now mind you I’m assuming his name was ‘Brad’ because I couldn’t really understand him. In my mind it sounded like “Bread” or “Brud” so I asked him to repeat it. Then when I still couldn’t understand him, I asked him to spell it out. THAT was a mistake.

(Caller)“BEE-OAR-HAY-ZEE, and I’m calling to offer newspipper for limit time.”

HUH??

(Me) “No. I don’t want to renew. Because the last time I had this newspaper some punk teenagers set my paper box under my mailbox on fire in the middle of the night and scorched my mailbox and my newspaper. THEN when I tried to get someone out here to replace it – they just took the damn thing and never gave me my papers. So I paid $26 for 3 newspapers and burnt mailbox. So, Bread, I’m sorry, I’m not interested.”

(Caller) “Ok, plays hole for a minute why I take your card for information.”

(Me) tapping phone with finger - “Hello? Is this thing on? Bread? I don’t want to hole for a minute while you take my card, my card isn’t going anywhere. I-DO-NOT-WANT-YOU-CALLING-ME.”

I then hung up the phone. Again, why can’t someone FROM The Idaho Statesman call me? Do they really have to outsource? I’m sure the BIGGEST NEWSPAPER IN IDAHO knows about our economic state. This confuses me.

Second phone call:

(Me) “Hello?”
(Caller) “Hello? Is this Sahnd”?
(Me) “No, Sahnd isn’t here right now.”
(Caller) “Hello, is this Sahnd.”
(Me) “No, who is this?”
(Caller) “I’m sahddy, I’m calling for Sahnd”
(Me) “Sahnd is gone and she won’t be back, who is this?”
(Caller) “I’m Tina and I’m calling for Sahnd”

REALLY?? Tina??

(Me) “Ok, Tina? Sahnd isn’t available.”
(Caller) “I’m happy to offer special grahnt for being here.”

What the hell did this woman smoke this morning?

(Me) “For being where? I don’t want a grant. However if you are willing to give me my job back, I’m willing to listen.”
(Caller) fake laugh “Ooohhh, you dunt work?”
(Me) “I did! But a very big company in India took my job because apparently the people of India know more about American Citizens and their Medicare needs than we do, so now I’m unemployed. So I don’t need a grant, I need a job, and unless you know of someone who can do that for me, I’m not interested in talking to you anymore.”
(Caller) “Ohhkaa, I cannot offer job but you provide meh your checking account and grahnt will pay for the school.”
(Me) “No, no checking account information will be exchanged today, but I will give Sahnd a message and let her know that you called.”
(Caller) “I will thank you for calling.”

I hung up.

I should feel guilty for acting like such a bitch, but I’d be lying if I said I was sorry for acting so childish. I’m not into being scammed, and I’m not interested in giving anyone in India my services. I’m not prejudiced. But I do have a bad taste in my mouth and I am the last person to have any sympathy for their economy over there.

Today is one of those days. My ‘nice girl’ pants have been misplaced. I should probably find them before my family disowns me and makes me sit in timeout.

Swimsuit Shopping

Most of you may know where I’m about to go with this. However, for those of you who don’t experience: small breasts (not just average small, but two gingersnaps on a cookie sheet small), muffin tops and saddlebags, I’m about to enlighten you on what it’s like to try on swimsuits.

First off, I must inform you that the hodgepodge that I had to choose from wasn’t very promising. However knowing that most stores don’t carry suits for the spandex challenged, I went in with the frame of mind that my success might be very short lived. My focus was on a skirt/tank set. A skirt, so that my butt wouldn’t hang out and shock any innocent by-standers, and a tank so I could hide the permanent maze that I have etched onto my stomach (a.k.a. stretch marks).

The problem with having a small chest and a big butt (assuming your not 'J-Lo')? Nothing fits. I’m not being a pessimist; I’m only stating a fact. Because of my small bust and big butt, I’m forced to find tops that are teeny weenie around the chest and bottoms that are loose enough to let the cheeks breath. So here I am in the dressing room with 7 or 8 pieces to try on. I’m pretty excited because this might actually be the first time in 5 years that I could sport a bathing suit and feel “ok” about it. After a small struggle, I finally get the bottoms up and over my hips, pull the top down, adjust the skirt a bit, do a little turn to the 3-way mirror and phphphllllphfffbbb. Both the top and the skirt, in perfect sync, roll up like a window shade! The nice assistant, who gets paid to be up your ass, knocks on my door and says, “How is everything?” (Now what I want to say is) “Kiss off bitch, it doesn’t fit”. But I don’t. Instead I reply, “Uhm, I think I need a bigger size in both the top and bottom.” She says, “Let’s see.” What? “Let’s see”???!!! I’m not on parade lady just get me the damn Large! I politely decline and say “Well, I would show you, but then you would be traumatized and that wouldn’t be good for anyone, so could I just get a ‘Large’ in the blue and white Nike set?”

She kindly grabs the large, and throws it over the door. It was only by the grace of God that I was able to get the first suit off – I glanced in the mirror and carefully inspected all the red blotches that the evil suit left on me. I would like to not have signs of a struggle while trying on suits, that’s usually a dead give-away that something’s not right. I slipped on the large top – no problems at all, and then the large bottoms – again, smooth as butter. I did my little butt check in the mirror and realized that the back of the skirt was much higher than the front. Oh for shit’s sake – well I can deal with higher, just not tighter. I turned to the front to adjust my halter on the top and realized it was tied as tight as it would go. The stomach part fits perfect, the bottoms fit relatively ‘OK’, but somehow my chest got lost in the fabric. My desperation starts to set in. Can I not have a successful trip to the department store? Does everything have to be so damn difficult? I took the top off, stripped the bottoms off, threw on my clothes, adjusted my messy hair and flung open the door. There’s Susie Suck-Up standing there, “Well how’d you do?” I smiled my fake smile and said, “Ok, I think I’m going to pass on these, thanks for all of your help”. Without giving her an opportunity to say anything back, I woke my son up (yes he was sleeping in the dressing room) and we bailed.

On the way home I apologized to him for dragging him out to try on swimsuits. He says “That’s OK, why didn’t you like them? Were they too small for you?” I said, “Yeah honey they were. Mom doesn’t like a lot of her body showing and it is hard for me to find something where my bottom doesn’t hang out.” His intelligent comment back was “Is it because of your stretch marks?” (He knows this about me because I’ve broken the ‘Mom Law’ and have remarked about my flaws in front of him – he’s a sponge and according the Today show you shouldn't talk negatively about yourself around your children.) “Not really my stretch marks so much.” I lied. “But more just the fact that - well, yeah – my stretch marks and the fact that I’d like to be covered up a little more.” Again, fibbing. He says to me “Well, stretch marks are a part of life Mom, and you’re just going to have to get over it.”

How do you argue with that? I didn't. I just nodded and smiled and drove us home. I decided, I won’t be shopping for swimsuits until next year.

Brain Fart (formerly known as 'Writers Block')

When I started this blog, it originally was supposed to be a laundry list of daily rants. Mostly consisting of my little idiosyncrasies and, well, my irritations (which by the way are too many to list). However it’s turned out to be a flop since my life is so exhilarating (sarcasm people) all I have to bitch or write about is running (or lack thereof) and unemployment. Don’t get me wrong, if given the opportunity, I could easily find things to complain about: the over-cautious and sometimes erratic female drivers here in the town I live in, the local Wal-Mart where all shoppers apparently think they are in the Indianapolis 500 and bulldoze you out of the way if a free checker opens up, or the neighbors that live right across the street from me and can’t seem to keep their drool in their mouths whenever a female is spotted within 30 feet of them.

Then there are days where I feel like I’m supposed to be documenting anything and everything, because that’s what “good bloggers” do for their fans right? Well I have 4, yes, 4 fans (whom I think were paid by family members to read my attempts at journaling); and I’m beginning to feel guilty because I’ve been so completely obsessed lately with this whole running thing.

I think I might have more success at blogging if I were to talk about something noteworthy like Twitter and the weather, but for 1) Twitter is an overrated website designed to make less-significant peons (like me) feel good about knowing that Brooke Burke just had a latte and is getting her hair done at her favorite boutique; and 2) there isn’t much to say about the weather – it’s July and it’s HOT! And in 4 months it will be November and COLD!

I’m also not one of these bloggers that can go on and on about “Johnny” and his new tooth. I have a son, yes, and I too am a proud Mom, but some things aren’t fascinating and I don’t foresee any of my 4 fans wanting to know how many times my son chewed before swallowing.

So I guess for now, I’m stuck writing about what I do know, this is an employer’s market and they don’t like me; and I require a helmet when I run.

Hey a new week is starting, maybe I’ll fall into a canal and we can all have a good laugh. (That was a joke people!)

Keep moving ... nothing to see here

I keep thinking that I’ll have something intelligent and witty to write about in this silly blog, but my humiliating moments keep getting the best of me.  For once, I would love to have a day where I didn’t put myself on the “Hard to look cool” list. 

I’m beginning to think that my sole purpose in life is to complete any and every embarrassing task possible.  I used to think it was because the common sense factor wasn’t fully developed, but since I’m over the age of 30, I can’t really use that excuse anymore.  Quite frankly, I don’t have an excuse.  It just happens.  I’m that gifted!

I’ve learned so much while experiencing embarrassing moments, like it’s very easy to stick your foot through a cat door when the door is still shut, and you forget to open it, but your body keeps moving forward anyway.  And Wal-Mart parking lots are equally as dangerous when you aren’t watching where you’re walking.  Especially the walkways where you have to step up.  Luckily there was a car full of kids right in my fall down path and I was able to break my fall on their hood.  That was fun.  And of course there was the time (just 2 weeks ago) that I was getting into my fiancés truck.  While in the process of this, my next door neighbor was standing in her driveway with her two kids and me, being the social bug that I am, yelled out “Your son is getting so big…how old is he now?” Then before she could answer… WHAP!  The truck door didn’t stay open and I decided to catch it with my face.  My bruised ego and me politely ended the conversation as I crawled into the truck and begged my fiancé to drive away.

Most recently, during my run/walk today I was on the home stretch (about 200 meters from my driveway) when I noticed a Qwest truck driving down the road.  My son got all excited and waved to the unsuspecting man driving the truck.  Just as the man waved back a bee flew into my ear.  I immediately shook my head vigorously, which caused me to lose my balance and I ran straight into my neighbor’s mailbox.  I pretended that I wasn’t the least bit phased by it, until I realized it was his mailbox that I practically tore off.

Hopefully now that I’ve laid it all out in the open, some good Karma will start my way.

That’s all for now.

Boy, was I wrong

Through all of my bitching and complaining about this running nonsense, today I managed to jog a full ½ mile.  Please, hold your applause.  I said HALF.  I brought my trusty sidekick with me for a walk/run (my son) and told him that if he wanted to get in shape for football, he should start joining me in my efforts to make my butt look less enormous.  So off we went for a 1-mile warm-up.  I explained to him that it was my goal to learn to run because I wanted to be healthier, and because it’s a task that I haven’t yet been able to accomplish.

I informed him that when we hit the ½ mile mark, we were going to jog at a slow pace back to our house.  I felt the need to prep him because he is 9, and the poor boy inherited his fathers short legs and I just knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep up with my stride.  However I comforted him and encouraged him to run at his own pace and that I wouldn’t lose site of him.  I’m such a good Mom (patting self on back).

We hit our halfway point and I said “Ok, are you ready?  We’re going to start running now.”  He says to me “Yep, I’m ready when you are.”  And off we went.  He kept looking up at me and wanting to chat as I’m focusing on my 2-2 breathing efforts.  [Let me just clarify something, I don’t multi-task when attempting to run.  This is dangerous and can cause over-exertion on my part when trying to think, run and talk at the same time.]  When he noticed I wasn’t paying attention, he bailed.  No, he didn’t stop running; he flat out took off – gone!  I thought “Oh how cute, he thinks he can out run me”.  I mustered up enough breath to yell out “Don’t go too fast, you’ll tucker out – pace yourself!”  Then, he turns around and starts running backwards and says, “C’mon Mom, you can do it!  I’ll back-pedal the whole way if you want!”  Are you serious?  Did my son just dis me?  Oh hell no.  I kicked it in to 2^nd gear (that’s as fast as I can go at the moment) and caught up to him, and he pulled away again.  I yelled, “It’s not a race!”  He says back “I’m not racing, I’m pacing myself”.  Whatever!  The little shit is trying to out-run me.  So I focus even harder on my breathing, spit flying everywhere, heavy panting, and feet flopping on the ground.  It was at this moment that I realized, I wasn’t running to push myself, I was running to prove that my 9-year old son couldn’t beat me! 

He won.  But I ran my first ½ mile without stopping and he later told me “I now know how you feel after all these months.  Apparently this is hard for you.”  His words of encouragement have now made me even more determined to meet my goal.

 

 

Tenny Runners

My memory is a little sketchy when it comes to my childhood.  I think it started when my older sister tried to convince me to slide down the laundry shoot at the ripe old age of 4.  Apparently I had worn out my welcome.  Any how … or it could be when she fed me my Mom’s face cream promising that it was whipped cream … ok sorry – off track.  Circling back around for a second go.  And...begin.  My memory is a little sketchy when it comes to my childhood – however I think most kids can remember their very first pair of tennis shoes that they got to pick out all on their own.  Mine?  Oh, yeah mine were the pink  ‘Miss Piggy’ with Velcro!  Yep, I had “cool” written all over me! 

I’m sure I am not the only person who thought new shoes made you run faster either.  You can act like you aren’t nodding and agreeing with me right now, but it’s a fact.  It’s some code written in kid gibberish somewhere.  “All new shoes make you run faster and jump farther”.  However, this tends to not be the case as an adult.  There is some part of that little kid in me that wants to believe that new shoes will not only make my butt look smaller, but they will also make me less accident prone and miraculously allow me to run f-a-s-t-e-r (or at least keep a decent pace).  My point is, I recently received a shiny new pair of shoes for my birthday and they are, quite possibly, the most comfortable things I’ve ever worn.   There is a downside.  I still can’t run.  My knees are benefiting quite well, however my speed, form and ego are seeing no immediate results.

I realize I am not going to be a runner overnight. I also understand and expected there to be some growing time – you know, become one with the shoes, pavement and shin splints.  Although it would be nice if I could manage to do a full mile in a run and not have to stop drop and pass out every 30 seconds.  I will add that, what really bothers me is when most people say they have started running and complain that they can only run a mile in 12 minutes.  ‘Ahem’ I’m sorry, but I’d give my left ear to run a mile in 12 minutes.  The only productive thing I’ve done in 12 minutes time is poop!  Oops, off track again.

I guess I’m stuck in my childhood thinking that new shoes are going to “fix” the problem.  However, the real problem is the fact that I’m 33, overweight, prone to falling down a lot and on special requests only – popping my hip out.  I was secretly wishing that my new shoes would spread some of that “Miss Piggy” magic that was so effective when I was 4. 

 

 

I'm unemployed, not incompetent...

Again…if you are unemployed, and you are sick of reading employment ads that require you to hold a degree in some form or another just so you can answer a telephone and write down a message, I’ve taken the liberty of drafting a cover letter for you.  This is the “dumb it down” cover letter that lets all potential employers know that you can be the one dumb ass that they’ve been looking for: 

Dear Hiring Manager,

 

I was excited to see your job posting on Craigslist for the Entry Level position and would like to learn more about this opportunity. 

 

I currently hold [enter # here] years of professional experience in the operations of photocopiers and fax machines and I would like to apply the knowledge and insight gained throughout my various experiences so I may work for just above minimum wage.   

 

I offer much diversity in various skill sets including, but not limited to: taking insults, ordering lunch, cleaning the break room microwave and being a personal “bitch” to anyone who is above me.   I have enjoyed the opportunity to sharpen my organizational skills, research and problem solving ideas, as well as my ability to run circles around my peers and not get acknowledged for it.  In my past and current positions I have gained a plethora of knowledge in writing, aesthetics, designing and presenting high-impact visual aides, all while someone else takes the credit; as well as analytical problem solving and exemplary coffee making skills.  I believe that with my work ethic and range of experience, you will have a well-rounded employee that can not only place stamps appropriately on envelopes, but can bring entrepreneurial spirit and value added vision to this exhilarating position.

 

Thank you for your time and consideration. I look forward to receiving your computer-generated “We’re sorry, but we found someone better” email. 

I get that the economy is bad.  I get that people are struggling.  However, what I fail to conform to is employers asking for Pulitzer Prize winners and MBA holders, just to greet clients and lick glue – all while paying barely above minimum wage.  

The Schnozberries Taste Like Schnozberries!

I've decided that lemon layer cake and chili bombs are not productive to a workout. Nor are they productive towards a potential goal. However, I can tell you that they become a very good coping mechanism when you wake up on your Birthday and realize good ol' Mother Nature decides it's a good time to open up the gates and welcome your 33rd year of life with a bloated face and the world's worst mood swings.

Needless to say my potential goal was put on the back burner last week, while I single-handedly ripped everyone within a 10 mile radius of me, a new a**hole, while successfully eating everything within reach that contained salt, sugar, or alcohol. I attempted a walk/run last week, however with the knees already being a number one factor in my inability to run a full mile, the added 40 pounds of water that entered my body overnight didn't help either. As if I wasn't having enough issues with clothing, I had no choice but to wear my special reserve "big girl" pants (a.k.a. menstrual sweats). So off I go with my knee braces in tact, my baggy sweats, and my puffy hands and feet. I'm thinking if I start at a brisk walk, the water that I'm retaining will miraculously start evaporating. So not the case. Instead, the more I walked, the more sausage-like my fingers became. I'm starting to feel my shoes expand and my face feels like it's absolutely going to spontaneously combust at any moment. I made it exactly .15 miles before I gave in to defeat. The absurd choice to wear sweat pants in 90 degree weather was an obvious brain fart on my part. So, my busted ego, swollen face and puffy hands went home to pout and contemplate this whole "I am woman I can do anything" rant that I've been on. Totally defeated.

While working my way up to "fight weight" I came to the conclusion that not only can I not run in slippery conditions, but for one week out of each month, I will be chaining myself to my bed for fear of being carried away by "Oopma Loompas" because of my love affair with chocolate and beer. I now have 4 weeks to accomplish my goal. This is not good.

It's got to be the shoes

Maybe my goal isn't a realistic goal. Maybe I set my standards too high. I'm thinking I should have set a more reasonable achievement, like "I will not eat any chocolate, except on Tuesdays". But this whole psycho babble about completing a full mile in 5 weeks is absolutely absurd. I must have been tapping into my guilty conscience since eating those 7 cookies...thinking I had to "punish" myself by running a mile. It's not just the fact that I look completely ridiculous, but I truly think that some people were not meant to run.

I've thought that I've been going about it all wrong - but I've actually been taking this pretty seriously. I learned that my knees are whacked out because I'm not actually overpronate, but underpronate (I walk on the outsides of my feet) and the nifty shoes I purchased are doing me absolutely no favors. I also learned that there is proper form. It takes a tremendous amount of concentration (for me) to keep my head up, shoulders square, arms at 90 degrees and remember to push off the balls of my feet. How do I know if I'm even doing those things properly? It's not like I can carry a full-length mirror around with me to check my "form".

The other reasoning behind my madness is, if the contestants of the Biggest Loser can run marathons, then I surely should be able to complete a flippen mile! It's RUNNING! I did this daily as a child. I loved running. I had pretend Olympic competitions when I was little. I was the World's Fastest Runner! What the hell happened? Is there some clause I don't know about? Did I miss the fine print in the "Life After 30 Manual"? There is definitely something I am missing. Something simple probably, like I forgot to squat 3 times and chant "I am a good runner".

Hey - it's worth trying.

Day 2 of Goal

I made a goal a couple of days ago and this is going to be a long 5 weeks if I can't manage to get my tooshy in gear. Yesterday was a true test of my agility and skill. Not really, but sprinklers are scary when you aren't expecting them and a 1/2 mile into my walk they all went off. I sprinted, yes, sprinted through the sprinklers trying desperately to protect my iPod. Did I mention I picked yesterday to wear a white t-shirt? For real, I don't make this stuff up. So yes, back to my agility, I was quite proud of the fact that I managed to sprint from my subdivision to the opening of the next subdivision (roughly 1/4 mile) without injuring myself. Of course I had to back track to find my lungs and my breakfast but dammit I sprinted!

I wasn't very successful the rest of my walk/run. My computerized coach from my Nike+ program is advising me to run 1 min, walk 5, run 5 min, walk 15 etc. I can tell you that never, ever, in the 4 months I've been trying, have I been able to run 5 solid minutes. I'm almost positive it's all mental - but for some reason everything falls apart on me when I start running. And let me just clarify, it's not really "running" it's more of an "old lady shuffle" but fast. I can't keep my earphones in my ears, my iPod cord flaps around too much, my shorts ride right up my thighs and I spend more time farting around with my gear than I do focusing on what's in front of me. I was sporting two knee braces because I don't have proper shoes and my knees are killing me and this car full of punk teenagers yelled out their window "Run Forest....RUN!" So I'm wet (soaked really), carrying my earphones in my hands to protect them, pulling my shorts out of my thunder thighs and embarrassed as hell because I was just referred to as Forest Gump!

I've been researching various websites and forums trying to find suggestions on how to focus and so far most of the people that are running aren't near as A.D.D. as I am. I see posts on how to control breathing, or avoid shin splints, or up their pace...but NOTHING on how to keep your earphones in and prevent your shorts from becoming g-strings. Lord help me if I'm going to complete this ridiculous goal.

Lost that Motivating Feeling...

What I need, is a goal.  I realized I don't have a goal.  Well, aside from finding a job - I don't have a weight loss goal.  So, I'm going to make one. My cousin is supposed to be visiting me in August and I've decided that by the first weekend in August, it will be my goal to run one full mile without losing my lungs.  Starting tomorrow, I will workout everyday (instead of every 5 days) and I will teach myself to run.  

There was a day, last week, that I did exceptionally well with my attempt(s) at running.  I actually completed a total of 800 meters without stopping.  I was soaked in sweat, amped up because of my pride bubble and for a brief moment, felt I was looking rather hot in my workout attire.  That day in particular, I did a total of 2 miles and completed a grueling task of push ups, sit ups and air squats.  Ahhh, I kept right under 1550 calories for the day, and ended my successful day with a hot shower and a cup of peppermint tea.  It's now been 5 days since I worked out last.  I've lost that motivating feeling and am just curious as to when it's going to surface again.  See, this is what I do.  I go go go go until I'm unstoppable, then when I manage to find my groove, see a little bit of success and achievement, I trail off into this world of procrastination.

I woke up this morning thinking I was going to tackle my workouts again, until I saw it raining.  Then my thoughts immediately when to "I can't be running in the rain".  Well that part is true.  I really don't run well, and slippery conditions would more than likely cause an accident.  However, not the point.  I got discouraged by rain!!  Really?  Then, once it cleared up, I dragged my sorry ass into my room to change into my workout attire.  I got all geared up - and made 6 batches of chocolate chip cookies.  What is my problem?  Seven cookies, two loads of dishes, 3 loads of laundry and a bug-killing spree later and I'm tired. I don't want to work out.

So I took my workout clothes off, laid them nicely on my vanity bench, put my sweats back on and figure "tomorrow's another day".  

Getting off track...

So I'm going to get off my soap box regarding unemployment for a bit and focus on my bigger issue: I can't run.  Really.  It's fairly similar to watching a 9 month old taking their first steps.  OK, maybe not that cute, but I really feel like the "athletic" gene completely skipped me.  I've been trying to do this walk/run regimen since March and I'm severely struggling to place one foot in front of the other.  

So I went out and purchased the Nike+ pack and a smashing new pair of Nike+ shoes.  I came home, hooked my Nike+ up to my iPod and downloaded this great workout program.  I was going to become a runner in 12 weeks!  TWELVE WEEKS!!  Are you serious?  It's that simple?  Riiiight. Here's what really happened.  (**insert "Eye of the Tiger" theme music**) I placed my special Nike armband around my meaty arm, put on my smashing new shoes, and placed my ear phones snug into my ears.  I grabbed my cell phone and selected "begin workout".  This really charming lady came into my head and said "Beginning Workout".  Oooh how nice.  I have a narrator.  Fabulous!  Then I hyper-extended my knee.  I'm 32 and literally cannot walk/run 3 miles without injuring myself!  

So here I am, 3 months later, a hyper-extended knee and flat-footed as a platypus, and I am just now realizing, I am severely out of shape.  So how do people do it?  I'm learning to run through the pain (ie. shin splints and side cramps), however I can't seem to get my breathing down and I'm spending a ton of time and energy trying to keep my ear phones in my ears, and keeping my shorts from crawling up my thunder thighs.   

I am desperate to be able to run a full 1/4 mile without having to stop and pick up my lungs. Running is hard, and I'm exhausted!  

If you're unemployed, this is what you're up against!

Executive Assistant/Marketing Guru/Jack of All Trades!

Our well-established firm in downtown Boise is seeking a “do it all” personality. We are seeking an experienced Executive Assistant to our VP of Operations, our Marketing Director and Jack. Must have advanced knowledge of Microsoft Office, Word, Excel, Outlook as well as proficiency in accounting software, including, but not limited to Dental Software, Medical Software, and any other software that may or may not exist. Must be Mac and PC literate. Must know Photoshop, Illustrator, InDesign, Dreamweaver and Flash inside and out. Must have a Degree in Accounting, Graphic Design, Administration, Business Management, Marketing, Communications, Theatre or any degree really; preferably a Doctorate. Absolutely no one with experience over a degree will be considered. We pay top dollar for College Grads! If you don’t have a degree, go apply at McDonalds! You must be able to answer 47 phone lines, make morning commutes to Starbucks, pick up dry-cleaning, sort mail, and type 102 words per minute. We offer a competitive benefit package after a 2-year probationary period. Must be willing to work Mon-Fri 8 am to 5 pm and some weekends and evenings.

We are looking for an upbeat, positive personality. You must have a professional demeanor and dress for success! If interested, please email us at the above link. We will be conducting interviews this week and if you do not meet any of the qualifications, please don’t apply.

Pay is commensurate with the current economic climate. We know there are 52,000 unemployed individuals in the greater Treasure Valley who are in desperate need of a good-paying job, so we are taking full advantage of this!

Pay: $7.00/hr to start with possibility for $8.00/hr after 2 years.
Telecommuting is not OK

Yeah, it's kinda like that

I just have to say - I have no idea who took this picture, but I love it and this is exactly how I feel right now.  Except she's way cuter when she screams.   

Introduction

I've been at this for several hours now, setting this up, learning about blogging and doing the "gee I don't know" dance on whether or not I want random people reading what I have to say. As it stands right now, I can cancel at anytime with no additional fees. So, what do I have to lose?

After a recent conversation with my therapist (a.k.a. Mom), I was encouraged to write my thoughts down. Hopefully someone, somewhere out there is going through the exact same raw emotions that I'm going through. If you are part of the booming trend known as un-employment, then you DO know what I'm going through. Frustration, confusion, annoyance, etc. Feel free to join me in my rants, or in some cases, minor temper tantrums. Venting is so therapeutic!

In a recent blurp on Facebook, someone I know mentioned that one of their pet-peeves was "people who live off the government by collecting unemployment and/or welfare". After I put my eyeballs back into my head, I went on a 30 minute tirade to my 'Truman Democrat' Father.

Ok - FIRST of all, God forbid, dear friend who's name I won't mention, that you lose you f*ing job! And God forbid that you become dependent on government money so you can put your f*ing high-ass maintenance kids through school - put food in their mouths, pay your damn mortgage and car payments! Let's get one thing straight Jack, there a LOT of innocent people out there who thought they were safe in their careers. You never know what is going to happen. There are absolutely no guarantees in life. I had a fabulous job. I worked from home and was able to afford anything I wanted. And in one phone call, it all ended. In one phone call, no more paychecks, no more insurance, no more savings account. I'm pounding the pavement and the internet 7 days a week looking for work. So don't you dare sit there any tell me or anyone else in this situation that us lowlifes collecting un-employment is inconveniencing you! Are you serious!? My fiance's father worked for a HUGE National Company for 40 years and got laid off 2 weeks ago. So, dear friend, anything can happen. You should be down on your damn knees thanking your lucky stars that you are employed. You can go to the doctor when you are sick because you can afford the co-pay! Would you like to insert your foot yourself, or shall I do it for you? I hear crow isn't that bad.

Don't take anything for granted.