I just want to let everyone know that Lucky is OK. I know it’s very rare that she misses a posting day (unlike myself, the slack ass of the group) but she is like kind of dying. Seriously she sent me a text on Monday asking how high her temperature has to get before she should go to the hospital. So she is like RULL sick, and then she had all that life ruining dental work done yesterday, but she is a strong girl and SHE WILL SURVIVE and she will be BACK, and thank goodness because this 1 woman circus is not all that entertaining… Gloria Gaynor with me now…First I was afraid, I was petrified, kept thinking I would never live….Anyone? No? Hrmph.
As if anyone cares for an update on the “Road to Find Myself: Stories of a Lost Blogger” there really aren’t any. I’m just as bi-polar about what I want to do with myself as I was 2 days ago. I go from YEAH! I’m moving to LA and I’m going to do something really cool/I wonder which celebrity I can convince to marry me? to wanting to move in next door to my parents so that I don’t ever have to cook for myself or do my own laundry again . I know, it’s called compromise, I have 4 months.. I’ll find it. And if I don’t, there’s always stripping. Also my dad told me the other day that he thinks homeless people begging for money on the streets probably make more a week than I do. So, there’s a thought. “Please help. Will tell testicle jokes for quarters. If a quiz is quizzical, what is a test?” I try really hard, ok? I also firmly believe that I would be a good candidate for Wipeout. I would call myself Frizzy Gizzy, crimp and tease my hair, and act all mad scientist like. It could work.
Anyway, what was I going to blog about today? Oh right, my family. So I helped my aunt throw a birthday party this past weekend for my mom and her son, “Cousin B”… here’s a family tree to help you keep track:
So all is good in the hood, a lot of people showed up… I was running around being super hostess, making sure everyone had enough to eat and something to drink. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that Cousin Z was off in a lawn chair sleeping, which he does at every gathering. He was supposed to help with this party so of course I’m like what a jackass blah blah blah.
My family is also notorious for practical jokes. After unsuccessfully convincing no one to smash a cupcake in Cousin Z’s face to wake him up I decided to go for it myself. WAM! Pink cup cake up the nose… mwhahaa. It was bitter sweet. Sweet because I got him good, bitter because he didn’t say a word and just got up and walked away.
The next thing I know it’s 20 minutes later and I see Cousin Z flying out of the house with a pan of baked beans toward 2nd Cousin W, 2nd Cousin S, and Baby D. It was like slow motion, I could hear myself in that low movie voice saying… “NOOOOO…OOOOOOOO” as he dumped the beans all over 2nd Cousin W’s head, all over 2nd Cousin S’s left arm, and all over Baby D’s face.
Of course the whole family goes ape shit because he got beans all over the baby. Yeah, I realize how white trash this sounds, mostly because it is white trash. So we’ve got 2nd Cousin W jumping up and down screaming “WHAT THE FUCK, WHAT THE FUCK!” in Cousin Z’s face all while Cousin S is slinging beans off her arm and 3 month old Baby D is enjoying licking the tastey bean juice off his lips. All while half of the family is coming to me asking why I did that because I knew he would retaliate and the other half is screaming at Cousin Z for throwing beans at a baby.
There were a lot of words exchanged, I offered to out myself and to tell Cousin Z that I was the cupcake culprit (which stained his face pink) and everyone told me not to because that would just lead to more chaos.
So basically everyone left the party except Cousin Z and Cousin B’s half brother D, 2nd Cousin S, me and a few others. I was facebook creeping on the party attendees and noticed that in fact Cousin Z and Cousin B’s half brother D and Cousin S are in a relationship. Really family? We’re doing incest now? I mean I know they aren’t technically blood related, but that is gross, right?
Like what would you tell your kids, um yeah you know your uncle Z and uncle B? Well they are Mommy’s cousins and my brothers. LIKE WTF! The world is not ending, there are plenty of fish in the sea, and we do not need to be doing this right now. I know they’re in high school so the odds of it actually working out are slim to none, but still… I can’t imagine the high school kids are supportive of this. If I knew someone who was dating their 2nd cousin’s brother I would absolutely point laugh and tell them they were going to have retarded babies. They should be ashamed of it. JESUS!! WHAT IS GOING ON!!!?
I need to get out of this country.
UGH!!!!!!! Today is another one of those days. I hate everyone and everything. Except you all, our lovely readers. But seriously, what the fuck. My phone has been messed up/giving me error messages for the past 3 days. So I come into work and I’m all… “Ahhh… technology.” And my fucking frank fritter computer is frozen. Don’t get me wrong, it works – but it takes like 25 minutes to pull up a freaking excel sheet. So I’m all fine, I’ll get on my facebook app while this crap loads… NOPE, cause my phone sucks too. Why is this happening to meeeeee? I need to be googling ASkars half naked photos while at work to get me through the day.
Anyway, Lucky and I had a long heart to heart about how we hate our lives and how something big is destined for us because everyone else is getting on with their lives (engagement, marriage, babies, buying their first double wide…hehe) and we’re both pretty much in the same place we were 5 years ago. Single, sarcastic, and cynical. I know like once a week one of us writes out the exact same post, bitching about how our lives suck only in different words and blaming it on something new each time. Ie, our asshole ex-boyfriends, our going nowhere jobs, or our non-marriage material personalities.
Last night I was complaining to Lucky about my job. I just don’t know how these people can go sit behind a desk from 9 to 5 every single day for 40 years of their life and in the end they have nothing to show for it, I told her.
For example: Lucky is an editor, most of the time she isn’t writing the actual stories – but at least she has some occassionally and can pull up her company’s website and say this… this here is what I have to show for my job. But me? I’m an accountant for a non-profit organization and they can teach any old schmuck to do my job, you don’t even need accounting experience to do this crap. And in the end I have nothing to show from my job at this big wig non-profit agency, I haven’t really learned any new skills. I read contracts and do math all day. Basically I am project driven, and in an organization where my “project” never ends it’s pretty frustrating because I don’t get the big pay off in the end that I want where I can stand there say, “THIS, THIS IS WHAT I DID! WAH-LAH!” This stuff just does not seem important to me. The world would keep turning if no one was here to do the accounting and everything would be fine.
So lately I’ve been thinking, what do I really want to do with my life? This sure isn’t it. I can’t fathom sitting behind a desk all day and watching the years pass by out of the 14th floor of a high rise. But, math is the only thing I know how to do, I hate it, but it’s all I’ve found that I’m good at. I enjoy art, but I suck at it. Like really, home girl can hardly draw a stick figure.
When I was little my dream was to move to Houston, Texas and hire Bela Karolyi to be my gymnastics coach. He would coach me into the Olympics just like he did Kerri Strug, we’d win all the gold metals, I’d be on the Wheaties box, I’d have a Barbie made after me, and my life would be awesome. But, I gave up on that when I got to high school and showed up at the gymnastics team tryouts, everyone else was way better than me so I left and never went back.
I don’t know what the point of that story was, but I just can’t seem to find what I’m good at. My parents never made me take any lessons to build any skills while I was growing up. Any sports or after school activities I did were because I wanted to do them and if I wanted to quit because it got too hard or I couldn’t do something my parents let me. I’m not blaming the fact that I’m not good at anything on them, but I wish they would’ve made me stick with something so I could say that I’m good at something other than math.
I started thinking. What things do I like? I like to be outside, I like tv, watching movies, being with my family and friends, reading, and I don’t have time for much else because I sit at my lifeless job every day for 9 hours with my thumb up my ass.
So I was telling Lucky I’m at a fork in the road. When the time comes in January for me to go on the job hunt I can search for accounting jobs near my family which will give me one level of happiness to be near them OR I can move across the country to another big city and try to get some cool job in the entertainment industry, which is something I think I would enjoy… I just don’t know what I could/would even do. Not to mention the only work experience I have is accounting and a little modeling experience.
So here’s to another meaningless post. But, I need you all to help me… what can I do to figure out my niche?
As you all know my love life has been pretty meh the past few months. I got my hopes up with Little Married Mikey and since then there have really been no prospects on the forefront of dating. You might recall that last week when I had my lunch with Corned Beef I mentioned that she took me to the young hot doctor hot spot. I didn’t elaborate on this at the time because it took me a few days to figure out what I was going to do with this new wonderful insight. Well this weekend I saw the light.
I have this brilliant new plan to marry a doctor, and I’m dragging Lucky along with me. We all know that Lucky is unsure what her situation with her job will be in the coming months so I have practically given her the rights to my first born if she will move to my city so we can frolick arm and arm in the city streets together.
While I was eating with Corned Beef I noticed several doctors under the age of 30 and I would be lying if I said a few of them didn’t notice me as well. After all, my place of work isn’t necessarily known for employing attractive people as much as it is smart people, so it is rare to see someone who is even semi-attractive let alone physically fit, not that I am either of these but you know when there’s not much to choose from the ugly duckling starts to look a lot less ugly. So I decided that I’m going to make the most of this hot doctor lunch spot and find me a doctor husband. That’s right. And I’m going to find Lucky one while I’m at it.
Throughout the next few weeks I plan to go to the lunch spot at various times throughout the day to determine when the pickins are best. Once I determine that time I will make that my new lunch hour. I’ll sit at the same table at the same time every day. Hopefully I will see the same hot doctors and hopefully they will see me too. It’s inevitable that one day one of us will strike up a conversation and we’ll fall in love over a chicken salad sandwich and iced tea. And the rest will be history, I can hear the wedding march already. Lucky told me that Patti Stangler encourages this type of behavior so it must work.
Lucky will get drug into this brilliant plan when Doctor Love and I get to know each other a little better and I feel comfortable enough to host a find-Lucky-a-hot doctor-too-party with 25 of Doctor Love’s most eligible bachelor doctor friends for her to choose from. See: This is NOT a set up as much as it is like the bachelor. There will be half hearts for Lucky to give out at the end of the dinner and if they get a half heart they get a 1 on 1 date and so on, then Lucky will find the hot doctor whose half heart matches her half heart and they will fall in love. Then we can both marry hot doctors and be housewives and go shopping downtown all day and hire nanny’s to watch the brats. We’ll walk down the street petting our furs while smoking out of quellazaires and litter just because we can. And it will be awesome.
I even ran this whole plan past my mom this past weekend. Like, “Who’s ready to be the doctors mother in law!!?? YOU ARE!!!” Before I could even finish my new daily lunch schedule she blurted out, “You HAVE to go at the same time everyday!!! This will work!!!” As every father dreams of their son being a scientist, astronaut, or doctor; every mother dreams of her daughter marrying a scientist, astronaut, or doctor. Why mother, it would be my pleasure to make your dreams come true. I feel this is an opportunity to really make my family proud. And by god, you just watch, I’m gonna do it!!! And so is Lucky!!!!
Day 1 begins Monday. I will report my findings WITH photo back up. And thanks to the book Lucky sent me last week (that was also on her Chic Lit list) Straight Up And Dirty, I now know that I need to date at least 3 doctors at once so that I know if I really do like any of them and I’m not just settling for what is there.
I think my 3 new doctor boyfriends are going to be quite impressed when they hear about my upcoming 17K bike ride. It’s hard to hold down a job, be a gold digger, and ride a bike all at the same time. I’m exhausted already. I’ve also started looking up soul food recipes. Just a few – 1 for some good salisbury steak with taters, a few pies… JUST enough to make them think I am good wife material then once the ring is on my finger it’s back to tv dinners and chinese take out.
Really though… SWF seeks MD.
Yesterday started out seemingly normal, I got to work an hour after every one else and got twice as much work done in the time I was there, nothing too out of the ordinary. Right before lunch I felt it. The beloved cramps that mother nature brings us lovely ladies every single god forsaken month. Any male readers/women who are confused about their gender that don’t want to hear about my period should stop reading now.
So, I start digging through my potato sack of a purse to find a tampon and come up with nothing. I go out to my car and look, nothing. So now what? I knew I had seen some of those dispensers in the bathroom with quarter tampons so figured I would just get a quarter and buy one of those. I didn’t have a quarter so I had to take the long way around the predicament and gathered up all of the nickels and dimes roaming free in the bottom of my purse and headed down to the soda machine to insert my money and then hit the change button, it gives you quarters every time! I know I’m a genius, you don’t have to tell me.
First, I went into the unisex single stall bathroom so that I could purchase my tampon in peace without having office rumors flying around about how Gizzy was caught in the ladies room buying quarter tampons out of the dispenser. I placed my quarter in the little slot and turned the oh holy crank as far as it would go and it got stuck. I practically ripped the dispenser out of the wall trying to get the effing tampon out and it still didn’t work. I decided my options were to face my demons and either go to the public ladies room to buy a quarter tampon or to buy a quarter pad, “napkin” as the dispenser and I like to call them, out of this private dispenser.
I chose the public restroom, hoping that no one would see me. But of course I didn’t have another quarter so roaming in my purse I went again. Finally I was faced with tampon dispenser #2 and…The. Same. Thing. Happened. Ok! “Napkin” it is. Nope. After literally spending $6 to try and get a tampon or “napkin” out of every dispenser in the building I decided I was going to pick the lock on the dispenser in the single stall unisex restroom. Why not right? I sure as hell earned my fucking quarter tampon.
**Q & A Intermission** – I know what you’re all thinking…
Q: Gizzy! You’re so stupid, why didn’t you just ask someone for a tampon?
A: I’ll get to that later on in the story
Q: You nerd tard, why didn’t you just go to a CVS, they’re on every corner?
A: Because I work in the heart of the ghetto and I would shove an empty toilet paper roll up there before I’d venture out in the ghetto and risk getting shot, mugged, and raped.
Q: Gizzy! You’re a woman, every woman knows to have back up tampons in their purse and car.
A: Normally I do, but I used all of those last month when I didn’t know Aunt Flow was on her way and forgot to replenish my stock. WHICH, will never EVER happen again.
Q: Ok, you’ve made your point, quarter tampons were your only option, carry on…
So I was finally able to pick the dispenser lock and what to I find? An empty dispenser and it appears as though that jank as dispenser has never even seen a tampon or “napkin” a day in it’s fricking life.
I stood in the unisex single stall and started to weep. I wept because I am too old to be in this situation but mostly because I really wished I had a PIMP. Oh, how handy a pimp would’ve been. Granted I would’ve been washing my PIMP out in my office sink, but still, it’s the thought of never being tampon/”napkin”less that matters.
Now my options were to ask all of the women in my office for a tampon/”napkin” or make myself a diaper out of toilet paper. I tried the diaper thing once in 8th grade when I went on a weekend vacation to my friend’s parent’s friend’s house because I was 13 and embarrassed that I started my period and forgot my “napkins” (back when I wore them) so when it was my turn to shower I turned on the shower and dug through the bathroom cabinets to find materials to make a sturdy diaper for myself. Really? Could I be any grosser? I was 13 seeping sweat and nastyness as it was, didn’t shower, and then I wore a diaper for a weekend. I just…have no words.
Anyway, the diaper idea was out for obvious reasons. Even though I already knew the answer from every woman in my office would be NO they don’t have any tampons or “napkins” I can have because they’re all 15 years past menopause I embarrassed the shit out of myself anyway and asked. As embarrassing as that was now every one was going to know I’m the one who broke all of the sanitary supply dispensers in every bathroom in the building. I saved my boss for last because she is the youngest and my only hope and if she didn’t have one I was going to have to ask to go home.
I don’t think I’ve ever explained how my boss is a cold hearted, snide, weird, scatterbrained, freak. Well she is and I was really hoping someone else could help me out so I didn’t have to drag her into it but alas I walked into her office with my tail between my legs and told her the situation. “Well what do you want me to do about it?” She said. So I didn’t even ask if she had one, I just asked if I could go home. She said I could on 1 condition… I had to use my vacation hours. Awesome, I’ll do that, and I’ll never come back you wretched whore. I was gone for like an hour and a half so it’s whatever. But, the lesson I learned is that maybe having a PIMP or two hidden under the spare tire in my hoopty wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Something to ponder…