Moving: A Timeline

I wish I had time today to write the lengthy article, in the great detail needed, to explain how the move from my in-laws to my own condo went. Alas, I do not have the time to write such an article today, nor may I ever because its content would be both histrionic and loquacious. So, gentle readers I present to you a timeline of events:

1. Thursday: Joan arrives to help with the move. I stay at the hotel that night just to get away because I've been stressed about packing and moving. We have fun; there is an indoor pool and a terrific continental breakfast. Beau and his friend, Spider, have a fit moving and putting together Glowbug's massive new bed.
2. Friday: I take the day off work so Joan and I can get some errands done before the big move. Beau rents a moving van, and he and Spider move what little furniture we have at the in laws into the van. Glowbug stays with Joan overnight at the hotel, I stay with Beau.
3. Saturday (morning): Everyone at storage (except Joan who keeps Glowbug at the hotel so he's not in the way). I start to help pull boxes out of the storage and within fifteen minutes I'm in the bushes throwing up. During this time, Lord and Lady discover that a family of field mice have been living in our storage unit. Also, at some point there was a massive leak and most of our furniture and anything not in hard plastic is molded.
4. Saturday (mid morning): At the new house, we pull everything off the moving van and lay it in our new yard where we pour bleach on mattresses, couches, etc. and wipe down everything else. Once things are dry and clean we move them into the house. Not much is destroyed by the holes the mice chewed into things, but everything has mouse poop in it. Joan is concerned about toxoplasmosis, the fact that I haven't eaten anything that has stayed down, and now I'm getting this weird cramp in my right side. Joan, Glowbug, and myself, go to a restaurant for lunch and then to the mattress store to buy (very) expensive mattress covers and a new mattress for Glowbug.
5. Saturday (night): Furniture is set up and we're starting to unpack. The new place is smaller and older than our previously owned home, but it's cozy and we're (very) slowly finding a place for everything. There is an attic, so we can put tons of stuff that we don't need immediately up there.
6. Sunday (3AM) I wake up to go the bathroom and fear that I'm having a nightmare. Every where I turn I hear scratching, scraping, and weird noises. I start to panic. Wait, no need. We have a squirrel's nest in our attic. Great.
7. Sunday: Nothing too big to report, we clean and unpack, Spider comes over and hooks up my washer and dryer and I get started on the insane amount of laundry that needs to be done. The TVs are hooked up and I'm so happy to finally have my favorite channels back: Comedy Central, Bravo, Food Network.
8. Monday: I can leave almost a full half hour later for work and still get there early! Beau and Glowbug are adorable, helping each other get ready as I leave. I spend the day at work thinking about the big meal I'm going to cook at my own house. I create a "To Do" list of things left to be done, and am actually excited to get cracking on it. I pick up Glowbug from daycare and he's so happy to be at the 'new house' because there are some neighbor kids just his age and they can run around the courtyard without me hovering.
9. Monday 4PM: I begin laundry, and the washer isn't working. I go to the faucet and there is nothing happening. I call Lord (who is technically the landlord of the house) and ask him if he had some people over to work on the toilet that wasn't working properly. "Nope" he tells me, then has to go because Beau is beeping in. Turns out Lord forgot to have the water switched to his name so when the sale of the house went through the water company they turned it off. The water company closes at 4:30 and there isn't anything we can do until Tuesday. Lord says, "Oops! Sorry guys!" and we pack up an overnight bag and stay at their house again. Glowbug is soooo confused because he thinks we're going to live there again. The weird pain in my right side comes back.

MY MORTGAGE *WILL* GET APPROVED!!!!!!

Robert Frost once said, "In three words I can sum up what I've learned about life: it goes on." Well I've got a little something to say to you, Mr. Robert-two-roads-diverged-gold-can't-stay-Frost: no it doesn't.

It's been 15 months now: fifteen months and not a damn thing in my life has changed except my patience with it. I'm still living with my in-laws in a one-room loft over their three car garage. I'm still having to put my makeup on in my car because of the un-Godly amount of traffic I encounter at 7 in the morning. My grandmother is still sick and frequenting the hospital without getting much better because of it.

I got all excited awhile ago because we found a great house and the owners accepted our low-ball offer. Just before my eyes could barely view the glimmer of silver lining, Beau and I were turned down for a mortgage: twice. Because of my insane up-bringing and readiness to take on unbelievable amounts of bullshit, we were not swayed and therefore applied to another institution. The representative was all nice and said, "We usually hear back in around 24 hours." Really? Do you? Because that was 72 hours ago, and all we've heard was you telling us that you haven't heard anything. If they turn us down I'm going to sue them to pay for all the stool softeners I've been taking because I'm so backed up with worry. Maybe that was TMI, whatever, get over it, I have a lot of stress, I have no poo, therefore I have no internal filter.

I read "The Secret" and they say that if you focus all your energies on something than nothing is impossible. Like being positive and saying (or writing on your blog), "OUR MORTGAGE WILL GET APPROVED!!" I've even written "Mortgage Application: Approved" down, and I chant it to myself over and over. Still nothing except for a grumbling in my stomach and a neck so stiff you could play racquetball off it.

In a violent act of defiance against the beloved 80's 'sitcom' my life hasn't gone on.











*Wow, this ended up not being what the titled foreshadowed at all. Huh.

Brief, Flammable Dispatch From Vacation

So, I'm currently on vacation with some of my family in North Carolina. It's going great, we're all having fun and getting along (Not that I really expected an issue there, though we miss you, uncle V!). I finally saw The Big Lebowski. It was pretty great. And I've pretty much gotten my entire family to watch True Blood. SCORE.

One of the things that we traditionally do on vacation is take turns cooking dinner each night and making a themed cocktail for each meal. It saves money because there are too many of us to reasonably eat in a restaurant and many members of my family enjoy cooking. We all get into it and have fun with it. My cousin Brianna and I were on dinner duty on Wednesday night. We were making this recipe with some alterations (We added chicken and omitted pine nuts. And doubled the recipe. And forgot the parsley.). Bri and I are not really cooks (Clearly!), we're both more bakers, but we were game to try. So, it all went well at first; Bri cooked the chicken, I made a giant salad. Then I put a huge pot of water on the boil for the orzo and sat down to read my book and wait. Then the following happens:

Bri: [in a bored tone] Fire. On the stove. Fire.

I look up, sure there can't be an actual fire because wouldn't that call for like, a sense of urgency? Or alarm? But sure enough, there are FLAMES coming up from under the pot. I RUN over and turn off the burner. Doesn't help. My mom comes sauntering in calmly, because she heard Bri and doesn't think there's a fire either. I'm all, "!!!" and my mom's all, "PUT A POT LID ON THE FIRE!" and I do and it works and everything's fine. Also, Bri's in the background calmly telling us, "I don't know how to work a fire extinguisher. Sorry."

So, that's how Bri and I burned water.

Well I Never Thought I'd Be Saying This Part Two...or, Thank You, Joan

Just like the title indicated I never in my life thought I would be saying (read: writing) what I am about to. I'm pretty thankful that I grew up in the insanity that is my mother, Joan. I'm glad that she flew off the handle like a drag queen that's just had her wig ripped off about everything. I'm glad that when there was a little issue, she dug down to make not a mountain out of a mole hill, but more like a universe out of a piece of sand. Joan would flip out over anything to anybody at anytime, and although horribly embarrassing, wrong, and dysfunctional, I'm now at a point in my life that I'm a little bit thankful.

See, today I was flipped out on, much in the same manner I had been everyday of my young life living with Joan, and I handled it with such grace and poise that it was almost like the woman flipping out was making a rational thought. I didn't try to do it; it just came naturally: the shields went up, I remained calm, praised her for her insight, thanked her for her criticism, and defended her insane accusations without ever admitting fault or making her feel like she gained the edge.

See, most adults don't know how to handle shit like that. I do. There is no trial and error when dealing with over-protective nitwits who live in their own world of self-importance and over-inflated egos. I know this. I've had YEARS of DAILY tries to know what works and what doesn't. I've had YEARS OF WEEKLY therapy to help me realize that this is a skill, and today I wielded it like a master.

So, thank you Joan.

Damn You, Journey!!!

Ha ha ha, sick of us yet? TODAY IS THE DAY WE POST LOTS. Enjoy that.

Anyway, I had an appointment with my chiropractor today because my back was kind of sore and I'm trying to avoid the thing where my back locks up and I walk around like Quasimodo. I mean, it's fun for everyone else, but I don't enjoy it. Plus, ow.

So, I'm lying on my stomach on the table while some...ultrasound thing is working its magic on my back. And over the radio? Comes "Don't Stop Believin'!" THIS SONG IS STALKING ME. I start giggling. The nurse pokes her head in, "Um...everything ok in here?" Because generally, chiropractics do not inspire giggles. I tell the nurse that it would be torture for me if someone played this song and told me I couldn't sing along. So, I sang along for the variously injured and their caretakers. It was fun.

Seriously, I hear that song everywhere I go. Mame and I heard it when she was visiting over Easter and we were standing in line at the Salad Works. I'm sure the crew there will never forget our rendition...

Geeky Movies, More Knitting and How I Broke My Own Face

Well. THAT was dramatic, wasn't it? I'm probably done being cranky and yelling at...no one. (YOU KIDS! GET OFF MY LAWN! AND TURN DOWN THAT MUSIC.)

So, what's happened lately? Well...I'm making a stripey scarf! It's going...hmmm. It's going, at any rate. It's going to be dark purple, medium purple and light blue. (I laid the colors out on the floor at the yarn store to make sure it looked ok. They love me there.) I'm sure I'm making a million beginning knitter mistakes, but it's fun and it doesn't look terrible. I say "beginning knitter mistakes" because every time I google some problem I'm having (e.g. WHY ARE MY STITCHES SO TIGHT? WHY DO I HAVE AN EXTRA STITCH? WHY DO I SUCK AT THIS?!), the answer always starts with, "This is a common knitting mistake for beginners..." Whatever, don't condescend to me, maaan.

On Sunday, I ran into a truck. With my face. Yeah, it would have more dignity if I'd hit it with my car. But no. I was walking along and walked into the open window of the cap of my stepdad's pickup truck. I have a bruise on my forehead and a little cut on the bridge of my nose. I'm awesome.

And I've seen Star Trek and the Wolverine movie. (What the hell is it called? Origins: Wolverine or something?) Both were AWESOME. I'll get reviews up soon, I know you can't wait. Since many of the characters in Star Trek spend a goodly bit of the movie with bruises on their faces, I felt a kinship with them...

Terror At...4 and 1/2 Feet

So, I don't know about you, but I watch a lot of horror movies and crime-related television. (Newest tv obsession? Criminal Minds. SPENCER REID!!! Ahem.) And often, I'm quick to jump to worst-case scenarios when a situation seems like it might be a bit dodgy. A dude in a moving van? Clearly, he's looking for girls to make a skin suit out of. A guy dressed in a Santa Suit? Obviously, Silent Night, Deadly Night come to life! Someone who smells like formaldehyde? Well. That's just CAN'T be good. Anyway, it leads me to sometimes, shall we say, jump to conclusions. And by "jump," I mean, "take a huge fucking leap."

Last weekend, I did some stuff around the house and cleaned out my car, which it DESPERATELY NEEDED. OH MY GOD, GROSS. And then I drove out to a shopping center to run some errands. I was listening to music, enjoying the sunny day. And I suddenly heard a...knocking sound on the passenger side of my car.

[knock. knock. knock.]

I turn the music down and listen closer. I don't hear anything. Ok, maybe I kicked up a rock or something. Then a few minutes later, I hear it AGAIN. And it definitely sounds like a KNOCKING. I move my mirrors to check the side of the car...nope. Nothing there. Huh. Ok. I keep driving. I HEAR IT SOME MORE.

[knock. knock. knock.]

Is it the man with the hook for the hand?! Is it a ZOMBIE?! Did I run over a serial killer and now he's going to follow me around wearing a rain coat and wielding an axe?! IS IT A GREMLIN?! HOW MANY MORE HORROR TROPES CAN I IMAGINE HANGING OFF THE SIDE OF MY CAR?! I can't see anything out the window. The car doors are locked. No one driving behind me is frantically signalling to me. It's also BROAD DAYLIGHT. I'm almost to the shopping center. I'm not STOPPING ALONG THE SIDE OF THE ROAD, OK.

[knock. knock. knock.]

I arrive at the shopping center and park my car. I get out sloooowly. I look on the passenger side...

The fucking passenger side seatbelt is hanging out the door. I must have pulled it out when I was cleaning and they don't always go back up the way they're supposed to and then it got pushed out the door. It was banging on the side of the car while I was driving along, making this noise: knock. knock. knock.

I'm a paranoid idiot.

The Ordeal with the Xbox 360...or how Bea ignores me now...

As I've mentioned about a million times before, I don't have Comedy Central at our temporary home. Beau has an Xbox 360 and we decided to sign up for Xbox 360 Live.
Ah, it was bliss. Beau could play his crazy blow 'em up games with his friends from Greensboro as well as here, and I could watch stupid, frat-boy-style comedies. It was great. We got our Netflix instant queue and Glow could watch silly kid movies over and over without my having to buy them. It was great. Some nights Beau would go out with friends and I would stay up watching stand up comics over and over by way of our Netflix Instant Queue and Xbox 360 Live. We bought a six month subscription and life was good.
Then Lord decided to go with Internet phone service.
There isn't an Internet drop in our "loft"
We can't afford the $100 wireless adapter for the Xbox 360, and we've read reviews that it sucks anyway.
I'm back to being miserable.
*sigh*

Lately....or, how Bea has abandoned our Blog...

As loyal followers of this blog know, in July my dearest (Beau) moved myself and our three year old to his parents' home in order to take a more lucrative job. We put our house for sale and moved three states away. I love the state we have moved to; however, we are still living with Beau's parents. Things are getting a bit out of control and I might soon have to take someone down a la Jimmy Cagney from White Heat. I'm losing my mind.


Problem from the Get-Go:


We don't have full cable. My father-in-law, Lord, pays for full cable, but only gets about fifty one channels. He seems to be OK with this because our pleas for satellite that we'll pay to install are rebuffed: insisting that his cable company is "going to improve." Seriously. I am still without Comedy Central, Food Network, or Bravo, amongst others.


How this has gotten worse:


We really only watch about two things: Mountaineer sports or M*A*S*H. Don't get me wrong, I like a good Hawkeye/BJ prank as much as the next guy, but I've seen about every episode twice. There's only so much good natured Corney-ness I can stomach without wanting to rip the TV off the wall and throw it across the room in an effort to make Hot Lips see how stupid Frank really is.



Problem from the get-go:

Lady's mother, The Duchess (sadly, not Fergie), is also living here. She's 80 and a survivor of three husbands (they all died, not divorced), cancer (breast and colon), and numerous falls which left her with a myriad of broken bones (including her face). She's an amazing woman who educated herself and supported herself and her two young daughters when her first husband died, and carries the weight of both her screwed-up family and her tiny town on her shoulders.



How this has gotten worse:

Remember the great aunt from "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation"? Because I live with her. She means well, really she does, but she's going senile and I'm going slightly mad. The other day she made macaroni and cheese which is delicious, then when no one ate the left overs, she made macaroni salad because she forgot that she had already put the cheese in it. So now we have macaroni and cheese with carrots, Miracle Whip, and onions. It's, well, not good. I realize that she doesn't want to be wasteful (she washes Styrofoam plates) but her passive-aggressive comments about how I'm not helping need to stop.

I don't like onions. I've never complained about not liking onions, I just pick them off of whatever food is made with them and go about my day. Well, one time she saw me do that and we talked about it. I assured her that I would always eat anything she made and not to worry about it. Now she dramatically comments on all the things I don't eat. Since then, she watches my plate at dinner and when I don't get a spoonful of something the comment, "You don't eat (that) either?! What do you eat?"

Then she got very mad at me for throwing away my yogurt after it had accidentally frozen in the back of the refrigerator, thawed out, and then froze again. She said I was being ridiculous because we eat frozen yogurt all the time! It's still OK. Dude, the stuff smelled like the wash from last month that you forgot to put in the dryer.

Problem from the get-go:

Glow Bug is now living with his mother, his aunt, his grandmother, and his great-grandmother. There is only proverbial Indian and four proverbial chiefs.

How this has gotten worse:

My darling little Glow Bug is becoming a brat. If mommy says no, dammit if one of the others says "Of course!" Beau and I talked about this yesterday and finally had to have a talk with the family about it. When Glow does something wrong, we all try to correct the behavior and he gets really confused. So during our sit down with the fam, we insisted that when he misbehaves that Beau or I need to be the ones to speak and deal with it. Now, we've had this talk before, and it will last for about a week before going back to the aforementioned, anti PC, turn-of-the-century saying about chiefs and Indians.

Things are clearly hitting a breaking point. And by "hitting a breaking point" I mean I'm about to become a scrolling headline on Fox News.

Things I hate about holiday decorations

1. Blue Lights

Good Lord. I hate blue lights more than anything else at Christmas. I think they stopped making them in late 1977; however, some classy families have found enough of them on eBay to cover their entire house, rooftop and trees.

2. The Half Blink/Half Steady House

I imagine the conversation whilst decorating this home went something like:
“Hey Momma, this string blinks, should we put it up anyway?”
“Yeah, it don’t matter none.”

3. No Theme Houses

How horrible is this? Houses that have forty different items thrown about their yard for no discernable reason other than they are all ‘holiday’ related. “Yeah!! Let’s put up the manger scene next to the inflatable Santa and then we can use the Pooh Bear light up as the angel! Sweet!!”

4. Really faded

When your decorations go from red and white to orange and yellow, it’s time to either buy new ones or just throw them away. Or, when the face of Balthazar has been rubbed off, try and draw and new one or throw it away.

5. The highly inappropriate

This could be anything from using a blinking bulb to illuminate Jesus to the really scary Santa faces plastered on your tree. A neighbor of ours has an inflatable manger scene, but because of a recent spell of cold weather, one of the shepherds looks like he’s celebrating the coming of our Lord and Savior by taking advantage of one of the mules. You can’t tell me that, as owner of said nativity, that you don’t drive by it everyday and don’t see it. Everyone else does, trust me.

Let Me Give You a Little Secret -- The Customer is Always an Asshole!

*Title taken from Mallrats. Naturally.

I spend a bit of time reading Customers Suck and True Porn Clerk Stories and I just giggle madly and nod knowingly the whole time. Because I worked in retail for years, from the time I was 17 and I got my first job as a cashier at Arby's. And you name it, I've pretty much had it, from people calling me names to throwing things at me to threatening me with lawsuits. It was fun. Ok, not at the time, but it is now. What is wrong with people? Seriously. I've gotten some really bad service. (I live in New Jersey. There IS no customer service here.) Yet, I would still never THROW SOMETHING at a snotty cashier. Or tell her that I hope she died. So, here are some of the more amusing and egregious examples...

1. I was working as a pharmacy tech one summer. This woman, who would come in regularly, was SUCH A BITCH every time. OH MY GOD. There was a problem with her payment method and I had to take it aside and fix it while she's glaring daggers at me and huffing like it's taking a year. (It took like, 5 minutes to fix.) And of course, the other techs had to ring up other customers, so by the time the problem was straightened out, they had deleted her order from the register. I had to sheepishly ask her for the prescription back so I could rescan it. (I knew she wasn't going to like that.) SHE FUCKING THROWS IT AT ME. And I don't mean she tossed it to me. She CHUCKED it AT me. Well, I ducked. Unfortunately, the other tech, T. was kneeling on the floor to get something out of a cabinet and just happened to stand up...right then. And it hit her on the head. No one was hurt, getting beamed by a bottle of pills isn't especially injurious and we all had a good laugh about it after she left. But what a bitch. Ugh.
2. A guy once called me a "fucking bitch" for refusing to let him open an account at the video store I was managing because he didn't have a phone. That was store policy: no phone, no account. Then his girlfriend apologized to me after he stormed out and I switched from being pissed to feeling really, really sorry for her. I mean, at least I didn't have to hang out with him later.
   
3. Another time, at another video store (that was in kind of a crappy neighborhood. Not dangerous, just kind of dirty. Mostly full of students and drug addicts, but the friendly kind!) a couple of regulars came in, clearly stoned on something. The woman* asks me if I can recommend her a movie. "Sure!" I said. "What's a good movie to watch when you're stoned?" "...Um. I don't know...The Wizard of Oz, I guess? Pink Floyd's The Wall? I don't...know?" She seemed stunned that I didn't know of a good movie for that particular pastime. And like it was a TOTALLY REASONABLE THING to ask. (Hint: It's not.)
4. Guys who would hit on me when I was shelving porn at the video stores. Yeah, let me give you a tip: when I see you perusing Beverly Hills 9021-HO (Actual title!), I am not going to be your special lady friend. It's not nearly as romantic as you think it is, you eying me up under the red neon "ADULT!! XXX!!" sign.
   

Ahh, good times. Ok, I know some of you have some good retail nightmare stories! Hit me with them! Especially you, Mame and Two of Hearts. I know you've got 'em!

*If you don't believe me about friendly drug addicts, the lady in question once panhandled $2 off of me. And then came into the store a few days later and paid me back. Now THAT is like some Chicken Soup for the Addict's Soul shit, right there.

Steps: 5, Bea: 0

Yeah, so, I fell down the steps again today. No, I didn't really hurt myself this time, just wrenched my shoulder and back. And earned the mockery of my friends and family.

Both EGT and my mother compared me to Bella Swan, the clumsy "heroine" of the Twilight series. Gee, "thanks."

Thus far, my clumsiness has NOT earned me a hot, undead boyfriend, so THERE. Wait a minute...

I need to get this off my chest...no it's not my bra...

I'm so annoyed, that I'm sick to my stomach. Ugh.

As Bea told you all, we are in the process of moving. It has been a ridiculous stresser and brings me to tears literally everyday. I have spent six years building a home only to have to pack up more than half of it and still try to live. Every day I clean my house like it's a hotel, and then sit and wait for someone to come by and want a look-see. I've been living like this for a little over two weeks and we've shown the house twice so far. The comments from the agents that showed the house were, "Well, it's getting there: there's still some de-cluttering and cleaning to be done." You know what, fuck you. I have a two year old, and am doing this alone. Beau is already in West Virginia and comes home when he can (usually on the weekends), so I'm just giving this a go alone. Of course a house across the street that has the exact same floor plan as ours just went up for sale, about $6,000 less that what we're trying to sell for. Of course what buyers don't know is that someone killed themselves in that house and the now owner just wants out of it. They are selling for barely tax value. We're screwed.

Shortly I'll be packing up little Glow Bug and moving to Beau's parents' house where we will stay until this house sells. We'll be there for months. I'm trying to be OK with that; reminding myself that trees that don't bend in the wind will break. I think I am going to look at this move as a clean slate. We'll live with Beau's parents and little Glow Bug will be so happy (he loves it there), we'll save money, we won't have to rush, so we'll be able to find the perfect house. The good thing is that Beau and I will be together again; Glow Bug isn't adapting well to his absence. I'm thinking of trying a new career; letting the youth of America be without me for awhile. If I fail miserably I can go back to education. It's exciting. The biggest draw back is that we can't take our two darling cats with us to the parents' house. Big Beau just had open heart surgery and Old Lady Gran tends to fall and break things like bones, so it was asked that we don't bring our kitties until we have a place of our own. Luckily our neighbor here has offered to foster them until that happens; however, I'm going to really miss the late night back massages from Sidda Lee kneading my back, tripping out the front door in the morning as Bucky runs ahead of me to do his morning cricket chases, and of course I'm going to really miss watching Glow Bug sleep snuggled next to Bucky - we call them Calvin and Hobbes.

*sigh*

Well to update you all:

My new job is secure. I called and emailed, and called and emailed, my HR department and my new boss to make sure of it.
I am going to be speaking to a friend of mine about my speeding ticket to see if there is anything that can be done, so my insurance company never finds out about it.
Beau came to work and brought me lunch and a LARGE sweet tea.
I know you were all worried about it.

My Horrible Morning...or "Already?!"

If you look at the time/date stamp on this post you will notice that it is 9:27 AM on Tuesday (or thereabouts because of how long it's going to take me to rant and rave about this). Every day I take the highway to work - it's fast and efficient; however, today I decided to take the back road so that I could stop at McDonalds for a sweet tea and parfait (shut up). I'm cruising along, laughing to my morning radio show when I notice the familiar blue lights behind me. It has been a long time since I've been pulled over, so I paniked and pulled over. The police officer was on a motorcycle and was SO NICE. I handed him a handful of papers that included my registration, my license, my insurance cards, my old registration, my old insurance cards, my employee ID, and apparently some reciepts. He laughed and said, "You don't get pulled over much do you? That's a good thing. Don't worry about it, I'll sort through all this." As I apologized and tried to take the stack of goods back.

He explained that they are trying to crack down on speeders in a rural area because they've had some neighborhoods complain. MY NEIGHBORHOOD WAS THE ONE TO COMPLAIN!! I *practically* SPEARHEADED THAT CAMPAIGN!! Beau and I are always complaining about speeders in that area, and I'm the one that gets caught! Whatev. He was very nice and gave me a ticket and alluded to the fact that someone at my workplace might be able to help me out *wink*wink* He praised me on my clean record and that I could always ask for a 'prayer of judgement' and the court would give it to me no problem. Basically, it means that I won't get a ticket again for two years or else I will pay for that ticket AND this one AND any interest, etc. I'll see what I can do about that.

Then I get to work, late. Whatever it's excused because I show them my ticket. I get laughed at. Screw you. I get to my room, log on to the computer and get set up for the day. When I check my email I notice that I have a message to fill out a survey for my exit interview with the county. Whaaa? In case you didn't know, I am leaving my current post as head guard, I mean teacher of innercity youth and transferring to a new post of an actual TEACHER. I'm not leaving the county, I'm just transferring to a new school. It's going to be the same employer. So I call the person who sent me the email and she says, "Oh, did you fill out form E44 by accident?" I tell her that no, I did not fill out any forms except for the transfer form that was approved of by my boss and my new boss. She says, "Huh, I wonder why you got that email then? It's just computer generated." I tell her that makes me nervous, that the computer thinks I am resigning. She replys with, "Yeah, that is weird. Let me check on it and I'll get back to you. What's your name again?" She could care less. I give her my name and after a few minutes of back and forth between how to spell my name and which of the two people with my last name I am exactly, she hangs up. I email my new boss and his assistant, assuring them that I am still gung-ho for my new position, but I recieved this weird email and yadda yadda yadda.

Now I'm sitting here sweating and still paniking. I've got a nervous twitch about my future job, a speeding ticket in my back pocket, and I never got my sweet tea!!! I'm loosing my damn mind.

A Short Play Re: iPods and Their Headphones

Dramatis Personae: Bea, Bea's Mom, Frank the iPod

[Bea blathers on about her iPod and music on it and playlists, pretty much as per usual. Bea's Mom is turning the headphones over in her hand.]

Bea's Mom: I didn't realize until YESTERDAY, that the headphones have a little "L" and an "R" on them. [laughs] Duh!

Bea: [blinks.]

Bea's Mom: You know, for left and right. [Bea is still blinking at her.] FOR WHICH EAR TO PUT THEM IN?

Bea: Um, they do? [looks at headphones.] OH! They do! Is that why sometimes I can't hear very well and then I freak out and worry that I'm going deaf? OH! Good! I'm just STUPID! What a relief!

Bea's Mom: [shakes head.]

fin.

A Short Play Re: My Chemical Romance

Dramatis Personae: Bea, her co-workers Snowflower and Corey and My Chemical Romance

Scene: My office

Time: Mid-afternoon

Background Music: "The Black Parade," My Chemical Romance

[Bea sits at her desk, patiently working while listening to My Chemical Romance for approximately the 100th time that day. Snowflower enters office, with Corey in tow to ask a question.]

Snowflower: Hey Bea, where is...you're STILL listening to this!? You are going to make me HATE this song!

Bea: Ok, you know WHAT?! I'm not any happier about this EITHER, but I will LISTEN to this cd until I am DONE with it. You are all just going to have to SUFFER ALONG WITH ME. I'M SORRY.

[The sound of crickets chirping and also "When I was a young boy, my father took me into the city..."]

[Snowflower and Corey back slowly out of the office and shut the door.]

Scene.

A Brief Snippet of A Phone Conversation Betwixt Mame and Bea

Mame: ...blah blah blah Kurt Cobain...

Bea: What? From Growing Pains? Why are you talking about him? Have you been watching his scary televangelist show again? 'Cause I've told you...

Mame: BEA. I SAID, "KURT COBAIN." FROM NIRVANA. AS IN, "SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT." ARE YOU HIGH?

Bea: ...no? I don't know what's wrong with me! My brain just jumped right to Kirk Cameron!

Mame: The first name isn't even the same!

Bea: Yeah...I...don't know.

Mame: [judgmental sigh]

Clearly, I'm an idiot.

Wow...You Look Great!

Oh my GOD, you guys! So, like, remember when Mame and I had a blog that we used to post to and stuff? We do too! And we miss it! Every time we talk on the phone (which is kind of a lot), we talk about how we have to blog. And then...we don't. But we have Plans. With a capital "P," even. We'll think of something. But for now, some random thoughts/experiences I've had recently. Because why even HAVE a blog if not to foist your useless whatevers upon the world!

• The Transformers movie sucked. I was all psyched to get it from Netflix, and I turned it off halfway through. Bummer. I'm currently watching Live Free or Die Hard and it's much more promising. What can I say? I'm a girl who likes when (fictional) shit blows up!
• I'm currently reading The Golden Compass by Phillip Pullman in preparation for the movie to come out on Friday. I, um, bought the book MONTHS ago and am just NOW forcing myself to read it. YOU GUYS. It's really boring! And the main character is kind of an asshole! Yes, I just called a fictional child an asshole. Live with it. This is a children's book! I can't imagine ACTUAL CHILDREN reading this. It's starting to pick up a little, but ugh. It's no The Lord of the Rings. And until book 2, The Lord of the Rings wasn't The Lord of the Rings for me. So, I'm trying to give it a fair shot, but blech. But I'll finish the damn thing. And then read the second book, The Subtle Knife, because I short-sightedly bought it at a used book store. And I WON'T be dissuaded, EGT, don't even!
• I'm kind of in love with the following tv shows: Gossip Girl, Pushing Daisies and How I Met Your Mother. OH MY GOD. In addition to my usual addictions to Supernatural and The Office. I'm not feeling Friday Night Lights as much this season. And I'm not alone in that. I'm still watching, but I'm not ADORING it, you know?
  
• ALSO. Everyone must start watching Top Gear on BBC America. I know, I know, you're saying to yourself, "But Bea! I don't LIKE cars or car-related shows!" I KNOW! Me either! You don't HAVE to! The promos for the show say it all: "You don't have to love cars to love Top Gear. You just have to love fun!" I nod along sagely every time I see one of those previews. I'm so lame. It also helps if you love bitchy British guys.
• So, remember when I posted about how clumsy I am? Yeah, so about that. The day after Thanksgiving, I fell down the steps at a THEATRE where my mom and I had taken my niece to see Peter Pan. It was really, really embarrassing. Heh. Then the other night? I FELL OUT OF BED. And then the next day? I spilled my ENTIRE CUP OF COFFEE ON THE FLOOR OF MY OFFICE. So not only did I have an unholy mess to deal with, I HAD NO CAFFEINE. WHY. WHY DOES THIS HAPPEN? Ahem. Sorry.
• Also, I hate my cell phone.

Eat the cake Etta Mae!!

CVS - I hate you.
I put in an online order, I get the email confirmation.
The prescription needs a doctor confirmation, so I go all day today without my highly addictive, anti-depressant. I can deal with the dizzy spells and nausea, but my students were complaining about the mood swings. Any-who, I wait in the drive through of CVS for twenty minutes only to find out that they didn't get the prescription. By now my doctor's office is closed so they can't get the doctor's permission to refill it.
After ten more minutes of yelling at the clerk, she finally goes and gets the pharmacist who tells me that sine I've been on the medicine for over two years he can give me three pills until they call the doctor. DONE! If she had let me talk to him as soon as she saw what medicine I needed refilled we could have avoided an ugly scene.
How much do I hate that store?
Ugh. But I'll be back there tomorrow to pick up the real 'script. What ever.