Bonesy's Blahg

Doing Double Duty, Blahg Style

The last time I sat in a class, it was 2001. I had just been laid off from my job & enrolled in a week-long session of employment classes. It was me and 10 or 12 other sad &  jobless people, sitting in a room trying to learn the skills to put us back in the workforce & off of the the government tit. Which seems like a great idea, especially since tits really aren’t my thing.

At the end of the class, if you had done reasonably well & attended all of the classes…they would pay for you to go to the local community college to obtain a degree from a list of “approved” courses.

It didn’t help me figure out what I wanted to be when I grow up.  It did teach me that I am far more ADD as an adult than I ever was as a kid, though!

I did not go to community college.

I found a “real” job & took myself off the government tit.

10 years later, I still have that job… but am taking online courses.  Why? Because structured classes just don’t work very well on a brain like mine. But also because I have started a new project that I’m having a hell of a lot more fun with than my day job & need to learn more about how to do it well.

All of this was just a super-long, drawn-out, & boring introduction to my new project: What’s Up NEO?  I’ll be telling you all about the coolest stuff happening in and around NE Ohio, from concerts to ghost hunts to polka festivals & everything in-between.

If you’ve been following this blahg, you’ll be happy to note that I post there WAY more often than I do here!  I’ll still be here… but also there! So I’ll be doing double duty from here on out and enjoying life so much more!







January 13, 2017 Posted by | People, Work | Leave a comment


So today I am one hot, hobbled mess.

I woke up with the best of intentions. My plan (like it is every morning) was to get up & ride the recumbent bike before work.

My alarm went off at 6 am and, while I admit there was a moment when I considered rolling back into the warmth that is my husband, I totally jumped right out of bed & started my day with a smile!

Ugh, who am I kidding?

I totally shut that bitch off & rolled back into the warmth for another 1/2 hour.

That may have been when things went awry.

Or, some sadistic fucker on his man period made a “me” voodoo doll & grabbed a giant pin.

Either way, when I finally did drag my ass out of bed, that first step was a bitch.

I know, because I yelled “BITCH!” right before I fell forward & smacked my forehead on the wall.

I’ve been fighting plantar fasciitis on my right foot for a while. Just when I think I’ve finally conquered it… it jumped to the left with a vengeance, just to prove who’s boss. (Hint… it’s not me.)

And I sleep on the left side of the bed, so that first step? Yep, it was the left. And that wall? Much closer to the bed than I realized.

So I hobbled my way through the morning routine (minus the bike), threw a little extra concealer on my forehead, grabbed an ice pack, then dug a dusty, mid-80s era, hand-me-down TENS unit out of the linen closet.

Why, you ask?

I told you, I had the best of intentions! I wanted to freeze and shock my foot back into submission so that I could go to churchersize tonight!

That’s right, churchersize. CHURCHERSIZE. The place where I go to get my sweat on once a week with my girl posse & a whole bunch of other, also sweaty people who are my sized, but have completely opposite religious beliefs, & then I dare god to smite me. So far, I have not yet been smited… though I have been cursed with the lesbian shuffle the next day.

(My legs won’t bend right & my arms are held at a weird angle to my body when I walk.)

And now? Now my day is mostly over & it looks like I will be smite-free once again!

No churchersize for me. Apparently, there just wasn’t enough freeze in my ice pack. There was enough buzz in my dusty old TENS unit, surprisingly enough. I mean, I don’t know what a “normal” setting is, but my eyebrows are smoking & I think I now have Tourette’s.

Just ask the guy at the Christian-owned restaurant down the street from my work. I made the office lunch run & he oh-so-kindly offered to help me carry it all to my car after seeing my pathetic limp. Cool Dumb as I am, I refused…then managed to hit my toe with the door, which threw me off balance, which caused me to knock my forehead on the edge of it as I stumbled out & yelled “FUCK! BITCH! GODDAMMIT!!” & stomped my good foot, completely forgetting that there was a short step down, dropping the massive amounts of food in my arms.

Sh!  Don’t tell the work peeps.  5 second rule!!


So, instead of eating my healthy lunch, then sweating it off this evening… I ate pebbly soul food, I’m sitting on the couch with my foot up watching an Alanis Morissette concert with my dog, & YOU get a blog post.  But hey, I MEANT well!

October 13, 2016 Posted by | Confession, Family, Friends, Health, Rant, Sleep, Work | , | Leave a comment

My Big Fat Gypsy Dreaming

Is there a gypsy dress code?

Specifically, if I become a gypsy, would I have to start wearing lots of jangly jewelry & creamy bright blue eye shadow?

Can you make trade-offs?  I mean, I might be okay with the fake gold & Mimi make-up…as long as I don’t have to learn to play the finger castanets, wear colorful skirts, or come up with elaborate ways to con people out of their money.

I’m really not all that imaginative, plus I get super paranoid when I’m running a con & act all coked-up.  (Minus the coke, of course.)

Here’s the thing…

I’m a little frustrated.  I’m a hair over 40, stuck in a high-stress, dead end job, up to my eyeballs in debt, and my youngest kid just left for college.

Is this my mid-life crisis?

Maybe.  Realistically, not many people live beyond 80, so I am technically at mid-life.

It all started last spring.  I was on the way home from an outing with friends when I got a flat tire.  I pulled into the nearest gas station & called Kid4 to come pick me up.  I got out of the car & stood under a dim, flickering street light, pondering the life choices that led me to this place. (Mostly why I needed to be the drunkest person in the room, yet didn’t go rub the head of the midget playing bongos.)

While I was working on my issues, I saw it:

A big ol’ ugly Winnebago for sale in the lot across the street.

Big. Ugly. Winnebago.

But it got me to thinking…

In that semi-drunk, wild-eyed moment, that run-down, rickety Winnebago  looked like freedom.

Giant, boxy, bald-tired, shag carpeted, olive green trimmed freedom.

And since then, I’ve been obsessed with the idea of chucking all of my crap and becoming a vagabond.

I want to surround myself with beauty, not things.

I want to seek out new adventures & kitschy roadside attractions, stumbling across them as I roll.

I want to meet new people, characters, and personalities.

I want to wake up one morning & be all “Eh… I’d like to see Montana.”

I want to be put out to pasture, but have the entire continent be my pasture.

(Yes, I am aware that pastures are filled with animals, crap, & allergens.)

Obviously, this is not something that can happen overnight.  There are logistics to figure out, like how to get my husband to go along with my craziness & how we would support ourselves.  (He didn’t like my suggestion of him standing in a Walmart parking lot with a sign all day while I write. Killjoy.)

So I didn’t buy the Winnebago. But I am still trying to find something that will fit into our budget and our driveway.

And, I’ve committed myself to doing one thing per day to achieve this dream.  It could be something as small as perusing Craigslist, or packing a box to donate, or shopping for my new gypsy jewels.  The point is to do SOMETHING to bring my dreams closer to reality.  One small thing is all it takes.

One thing…and a Winnebago.

September 29, 2016 Posted by | Confession, Family, Friends, Kids, People, Travel, Work | Leave a comment

How to WIN Friday the 13th in 769 words.

Sh! Everybody simmer down for a minute. I have something important to say!

Okay, not really.

But I am trying to quiet all the voices around me so that I can concentrate on the voices in my head.  Apparently, 3 days of missed meds & the resulting lack of sleep makes me a little schizophrenic.

It also makes me look a little like THIS:

I’m not saying this IS me, but I was a little sad earlier this week & wearing a purplish/blue shirt today. And I need to color my hair.

I think my trigger was the dirty apple I had for breakfast.  Okay, not a dirty apple.  I washed it.  But he did have a wicked case of blue balls & an apparent need to drop some seed.

Seriously, full frontal apples are the key to my genius!  Or just a happy coincidence for a dirty, sleep deprived mind.

But then I had to go to work…which is where the frivolity should have ended, if I had a lick of sense.

Which I do not.

And that’s how I was caught on the security cameras standing in the middle of the street shouting “HAPPY FREAKING FRIDAY!”

You can probably add that to the list of reasons they’ll eventually fire my ass.

But you know what?  IT FELT SO DAMN GOOD I DID IT A SECOND TIME!  Doubt me?  Try it.  Just don’t say I didn’t warn you they’ll eventually fire your ass for it.  Nothing like a little video proof of dumbassery.

From there, they paid me to eat breakfast.  Then make tea.  Then spill tea.  Then make more tea.  Then add extra tea bags to the new tea because I needed the caffeine & it was only 8:30.

Considering what they paid me to do all those things that I would should have done for free, I made some serious coin on a per-hour basis.  Probably.  I’m bad at math.

But it was all okay, because I found my old-ass ipod, which had a ton of music that I totally forgot I had!  So while I was fumbling away my morning in a gigantic puddle of eyecrossingly strong tea & paranoia, at least I got to jam to some great indie tunes & stuff that I’ll never admit to having on an ipod that may never see the light of day again.  And my new obsession song, which I added this morning before I ever saw the apple sac, but played over & over again like a fingerbanged teenager with a huge crush & a bad case of acne.

(“Taste” by Josh Abbott Band, in case you were wondering.)

I then let Kid4 know that Kid1 ruined my hoo-ha.  She thought that was TMI, but really, caring is sharing.  Plus, he did have a gigantic head.  There may be reconstruction surgery in my future.

Somehow, that became a text about back alley liposuction & vajazzling with an uber-conservative friend who doesn’t mind my over-sharing.

Then, 2 out of 4 children were demoted.  Temporarily, anyway.

I don’t think it had anything to do with giant heads or vajazzling or back alley lipo, but I’m not making any promises.

But I did encourage let them get into a bidding war for the title of MOM’S MOST FAVORITE CHILD after that, so I think I made good.  For the record, Kid2 won the sprint with her offer to let me come to campus & hang out in the Buckeyes football locker room!  Kid3 is looking more toward the marathon by planning out my pneumatic retirement trailer park.  He’s good, that one.  Kid1 just wants to be Kid2’s favorite sibling.  I’m not clear why he wants to hang out in the OSU locker room, though.  Curious.  Kid4 is working, so I’m still waiting on her offer.

But Kid2 & I did manage to solve every fucking world problem in existence via text message this afternoon!  I’d share with you, but we’re planning to sell our ideas to the highest bidder to help pay for my future trailer park.  Let’s just say I’m really fucking glad that placenta eating is a thing now.  And that Mt Dew plus Mentos equals ass-plosion.  But woe is the man who has to spend eternity huffing Larry the Cable Guy’s farts.

I’m not sure how we got to that either.

But then?  Then we designed Kid1’s new tramp stamp, which is sure to impress his future-mother-in-law …. or at least be easier to explain to her than his abnormal, but clearly AWESOME upbringing.

On crumpled notebook paper, for extra classiness.

May 13, 2016 Posted by | Confession, Family, Friends, Kids, People, Sleep, Work | 1 Comment

The One Where I Face My Fear

I don’t think I’ve mentioned it before, but I live work in a gigantic, creepy old building.  The company’s roots go back to the 1800s & basically the existing structure was put up around the original storefront.    It’s a strange place; a mix of old and older architecture and building materials.

Floors that look to be made of brick … aren’t.  They’re actually 6′ tall wooden posts, standing on end.  They’ve been ground down, and worn smooth-ish by a century of work boots.  And now they’re coated with that century of industrial grime, so you can’t tell what color they’re supposed to be anymore.

Carts pulled by tow motor today were the same ones pulled by mules nearly 100 years ago. They just swapped out the piece that used to attach to a harness for a yoke that hooks up to the tow motor.

For a history geek like me, it’s a wondrous place!  Well, other than the “work” part, anyway.  It’s kind of like urban exploring, minus all the rats and homeless dudes.

I never found this wall creepy...till now.

Also, it would make a FABULOUS setting for a slasher movie, complete with hooks dangling from conveyor lines, leading into gigantic ovens, and lots of hidden, dark nooks & crannies.

Hint, Hint, Hollywood!

But that’s not my point to this story.

It’s a manufacturing plant.  So, mixed in with all that super-cool, early century, industrial architecture is a bunch of grimy antique machinery.  Which PROBABLY means a bloody, violent history of industrial accidents and crushing injuries.  Because, you know what they DIDN’T have in turn-of-the-century manufacturing plants?  Safety!

Also, there were two murders in fairly recent history, but both before I started there…. Just in case y’all had your suspicions about me!

Despite all of this, I’ve never felt uncomfortable working there.  I mean, OF COURSE we have our share of office creepers, tit-starers, & cube trolls… but every company has those!


That all changed for me last week.

When I’m not writing or talking to my husband, I spend my lunch hours walking in a section of the old plant.  It hasn’t been in use since the 60s, so it now just holds our archived material and old, unused office furniture.  But it’s fairly big & mostly private, so makes a good place to hide out and get my fat ass in gear.

Last week, I headed up there to walk & take some pics I had in mind for a future post.  I had been up there nearly 45 minutes, and had taken tons of pictures.  Okay, maybe 30 – 35.  Whatever.

ANYWAY…  As I turned the corner in the back of the warehouse, “something” grabbed me.

This is right about the place it happened.

I don’t know how you feel about ghosts or spirits.  Most people are skeptics & I totally get that.  I was a skeptic once, too.

All I can tell you is that “something” grabbed my shoulder.  It wasn’t painful or forceful at all.  It was more like you would grab a friend’s shoulder if you walked up behind them.

Only cold.

VERY cold.

It was the kind of cold you get when you’re mixing up ground meat & the bones in your fingers start to ache…  But without the risk of  e coli poisoning & fat under your fingernails.

I’m not sure how, or why… But I didn’t scream.  I just felt all of the air rush out of my lungs in a silent gush as I flipped my head around to see who or what was there.

I was alone.

And, suddenly, I didn’t feel NEARLY as comfortable being alone up there with the dangling hooks and dark corners.

My fat ass got in gear, alright.  I got the hell out of there!  I was shaky and nervous, & had a hard time catching my breath.  That could be because my heart had plummeted into my lungs, crushing all of the air out.  OR it could just be because I’m fat & asthmatic and had just ran the length of the warehouse.


Remember those pictures I mentioned?  Of the 30 – 35 that I took, only 2 were on my phone when I checked them.  I can’t say what happened to the rest, but I had “saved” all of them to my memory card.

When I settled down, I asked a couple of “old-timers” if they had ever heard of any strange occurrences up there.  They hadn’t.  And, I’m not sure they took me seriously.

I did hear other stories, though, all from the main part of the plant… The part STILL in use…

Flickering lights seen on security guard monitors.

Cold spots in the middle of summer, when temperatures reach into the 90s in certain areas.

“Things” seen out of the corner of your eye that just can’t be explained.

Doors that open and close, seemingly at will.



All common occurrences, at least in places that are supposedly haunted.

But this?

This was different.  No one had ever mentioned being touched.

Yesterday, I ventured back up into that warehouse.

I’m happy to announce that nothing touched me.  So, y’know…

Bonesy 1 – Unseen, Cold, Creepy Thing 1.

Not much interested in a tie-breaker, I have to say.

FYI – The pictures in this post were taken yesterday, just to give you a visual of the areas I’m talking about.  Sorry if they’re a bit blurry.  I wasn’t about to stick around any longer than I needed to.

April 24, 2016 Posted by | Confession, Work | 3 Comments

The one where I describe what it’s like to be me.

I got a new boss today. I have a sneaking suspicion that she tastes like bananas.  I didn’t lick her.  There are laws.

BUT, I felt like I could smell bananas all day! It’s a curious thing, seeing as how I actually can’t smell.

Instead, I can taste the air around things.  Sometimes.  Today was one of those times & I’ll be damned if that air didn’t taste like an overripe banana!

Not that my new boss is overripe.  I’m pretty sure she just graduated.  It’s a toss-up as to whether it was college or high school.  Either way, I’m pretty sure I’m old enough to have changed her diapers.

When she was a baby.  Not now.  That’s just weird.

ANYWAY…you know how, when people lose one sense, their other senses are heightened?

It’s a myth.

At least for me.

I can’t speak for blind people.

I can speak for mutes, however.  They usually like it, as long as they don’t know what I’m talking about.

Typically, not being able to smell isn’t a bad thing.  I mean, if you have to give up one of your senses, smell is the best choice.

I’m not clear under which scenario you would be forced to give up a sense.  But, if you ever have to choose, take my advice & go with “smell.”

Apparently, in addition to the loss of smell, I’ve also lost my ability to focus.

My point to all of this is that, while I can’t actually smell, I can taste.  (That’s usually the first thing people want to know when they find out my oddity.)

This is both good & bad.

Bananas?  Good.

Dirty diapers?  Not so much.

Because of this, my kids were all potty trained ridiculously early.  My advice to new moms on potty training?  Taste it.  There is no greater motivator than the taste of a shitty diaper.

I’m hoping my new boss continues to taste like bananas.

**I’m blaming this post on the huffing that I may have accidentally done yesterday while doing arts & crafts.  In an enclosed space.  With both spray paint and high performance spray adhesive.**

December 12, 2015 Posted by | Advice, Family, Kids, People, Work | 6 Comments

Who knew one little notebook could cause such a stir? In someone’s pants.

I managed to do the unthinkable.

Somehow, in my hurry to escape the precinct I work on election day, I left my notebook behind.   A water-stained, raggedy repository for chicken scratched random thoughts, blog post starts, F words, & sexual references, it’s like my brain… on paper.    Which means it could be pretty dangerous in the hands of the wrong people.

Like the senior citizens I left it with.

See, my precinct…is also the activity center/dance hall for a senior citizen’s apartment complex.

After the shock wore off, I had a quick moment where I thought it was kind of cool.  Basically, I had left my innermost thoughts in the hands of America’s greatest generation… who probably hadn’t seen any action since 1972.  If I couldn’t get it back, I hoped they had passed it around, letting it spread through their colony like a herpes virus.

Which, according to my friend Izabella, is kind of how it works.  Apparently, they’re considered the greatest generation for a reason.  They do get action, & plenty of it!  Senior centers are one of the top contributors to the spread of various STDs.


So I kind of just started a new epidemic?

We’re going to call it The Dor.  It’s kind of like the clap, minus the oozing genitals & painful urination.

Side Note: DO NOT Google “the clap symptoms” from your cubicle at work.  You never know who’s going to walk up behind you & conclusions cannot be un-jumped.

You’re welcome.

Obviously, I worked my ass off Tuesday.  It was a busy election, especially considering it had a couple of hot-button issues on it. (Most importantly, a motion to repeal Ohio Senate Bill 5, which limited collective bargaining rights for public employees.)

But that’s not my point.

Between voters, I had been working on a new post.  Laptops and cell phones are not allowed in the polling locations, so I was working on it old-school, scribbling things in my notebook every chance I got.

Because do you know what’s funnier than old people?  Old people who have no idea they’re funny!

One of my judges is a talker.  I mean, she NEVER STOPS!  While that normally makes me a little crazy, I was loving it!  She just kept saying things that cracked me up, but she had no idea why I was laughing.

– Do you have a Johnson?

– Which one do you have?  8″?

– And then you can get behind her.

– Just stick it in.

– They packed me real good one time.

– They checked this girl & she was writhing in the bed!

– She was crawling on the floor & couldn’t get in the bed.

– You get down on your knees?

– I had a guy tell me once I should never get on my knees.

– Who did you?

– He had to put both hands behind my knees & flip me over!

– A doctor told me once that it’s in my personality to get really attached really fast.

(THEN SHE PULLED OUT A KNIFE!  So, my laughter was more of a nervous wide-eyed “heh heh heh.”)

Anyway, by the time I realized the notebook was gone, the senior center was closed.  So, I called before work the next morning.  It wasn’t in the lost & found, but I knew it had to be there… or in the backseat of my Judge 2’s minivan… OR turned into the Board of Elections with the ballots.

While none of the three would be easy to face up to, I was really hoping I hadn’t turned it in.  Something tells me the county would frown upon my multi-tasking.

I decided to stop by the senior center on my way to work.  After checking the lost & found again, I convinced the office manager to let me look around in the ballroom.


….Until we checked a closet in the back.

Apparently, the guy who locked up that night decided to spend a little “alone time” with my notebook.

He must have been interrupted, though.  It was lying open to a particularly explicit page… on an organ.

You can fill in your own joke about an organ in the closet.

I’ll be busy disinfecting my notebook.

For the record, I didn't notice any suspicious new stains.

November 15, 2015 Posted by | Confession, People, Work | Leave a comment

Corruption…One Generation At A Time

Several months ago, I wrote a post about election day. It was mostly about how I lost my NC-17 notebook in the senior center that houses our precinct…and some creeper janitor found it & had a little “alone time” at my expense.

Technically, the book was a trade show give-away, so there was no expense. But also? I may have been directly responsible for corrupting our greatest generation!

Last week, I may have done worse.

I don’t know how elections are held in your neck of the woods. But in mine, the Board of Elections gathers up all the old people in town & makes them feel useful again. They’re given minimum wage jobs with exciting titles like “Judge” & they get to lord over the masses from uncomfortable chairs at folding tables.

It’s a win/win.

Until they can’t find enough coherent old people to fill the positions.

That’s when they bring in the reinforcements… Dumb ass middle-age people who feel a sense of civic responsibility & teenagers who want a day off school & are bad at math.

I’m a mix. I’m a dumb-ass middle aged woman with the mentality of a teenager AND bad at math. So they gave me the uber-cool title of PRESIDING JUDGE!


I’m like the Queen of Judges, but without the ring kissing and curtsies.

At least so far. I’m working on it.

Note to self: Buy a ring.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure after the notebook debacle, the BOE decided they didn’t want me to corrupt any more senior citizens.

So they moved us to a community center.  I’m not sure a place why they thought I’d be more kid-friendly than elderly-friendly, but that’s not my call.

Also, they also added “assholes” & “crazycakes” to the mix of poll workers….and then gifted them to me.  It’s kind of like a Gift of Protocol that they give to foreign dignitaries, but I don’t have to report it to anyone.  Probably.  

Do you know what happens when they mix the Queen of Judges with assholes & crazycakes…and THEN they throw a teenager into the mix?

Texts & comments that could probably get me arrested.

OR make me a superhero in certain southern states! One of those things.

But…I got paid to do it. So… WORTHSIES!

Unless the authorities come knocking.

In that case, I may need you to start a Bonesy’s Bail Fund.

If you don’t hear from me for a while, have a bake sale or something. Thanks.

It all started when Crazycakes Judge 3 put her book on the table next to Judge 4’s book (the decidedly NON crazycakes teenager, who also happens to be good at math & really funny):

Crazycakes was reading an Amish teenage love story. Judge 4? Not so much.

Unless they do it politically in Amish country. Who’s to say? I try not to take pictures when I’m  peeping in their windows driving through, seeing as how I’ll steal their soul.

I have enough souls for now, thanks.

Also, I don’t care which way you do it… or who you do it with.

But if you read Amish teenage love stories? I’m pretty sure you haven’t done it with a real person in a VERY, VERY long time. Try putting down the book & getting out more.

Just a suggestion. I mean, knowing you’re not getting any makes comments like these especially creepy:

– He’s the one that delivered both my kids. He was drunk all the time.

– There were like 6 of us in a hotel room in Columbus.

– I could feel some going down my right thigh.

– She likes to lick lick lick.

– Well they are daisy chained together.

– I got soo hot!

– If I eat a Mexican….

– Well I usually like women better.

– I like to be on top.

– My crack was THIS wide!

– My mommy has hair on her privates.

– What did I stick in my bra that one time?…..

– What happens to the mother’s nipples?

– If you’re under her belly, you’ll feel her nipples.

So, despite the fact that she had NO idea why… she cracked us up!

Which just left her completely baffled.

I think I’ll keep her.

Judge 2, on the other hand…

The day started off pretty well. He was like an eager little beaver, all about helping set up the machines & feeling important.

I thought I got lucky!

And then I administered the oath, which is apparently also a magic spell that causes assholic behavior.

He played it off as joking… but he managed to offend even me.


He had a rude-ass comment or stereotypical accent for just about every single demographic.


Everyone who is not a Republican.


Black albinos.


Illegal immigrants.


Indians who own party stores.


People who eat sauerkraut, but not the super-sour kind.


Anyone who goes to a Mexican restaurant, but can’t pronounce the dishes correctly.

Anyone who speaks Spanish.

Anyone who speaks Spanish in the dirty Mexican dialect.



Yella-eyed men.

Anyone who can’t pronounce their R’s.



Anyone else who doesn’t follow his religion, which he was suspiciously ambiguous about.

Gays. (Though I admit I goaded him into it, just because it was so damn easy & I knew I could get him on a roll.)


Cross Dressers.

Men who aren’t cross-dressers, but can appreciate a good pair of shoes.

Women who don’t dress like men, but wear sensible shoes.

Dog owners.

Anyone who doesn’t have a cat.

I’m pretty sure the only people who didn’t get insulted were midgets & pretty people.

It was like an idiot party & I got to be the party planner!

What’s more fun than that?!

Lots of things, in all honesty.

But once the “cat” subject was broached, the crazy train rolled right the fuck over me.

Crazycakes baits her cat into showering with her. 

Which means we’ll never be able to look at a shower again without picturing a sad, tortured pussy crying out for help.

Have fun at college next year, Judge 4!  It won’t be the same without you.

March 13, 2012 Posted by | Confession, Friends, Kids, People, Work | | 2 Comments

Dreaming…of more than jelly & peanuts.

Over the weekend, I sent out a kick-ass resume & cover letter to what could possibly be my dream job.

By “dream job,” I really just mean one with a fresh set of surroundings that lets me out of the office once in a while.  And pays a little more than what I currently make, while at least matching the bennies & vacation time.

What?  I told you it was a dream job.

Actually, I’ve sent out several resumes over the past couple of weeks.  But this time?  I actually want the job, not just to escape from my current one.

I won’t tell you what the wanted job is just yet, but that letter would have been received today.

In my head, I totally pictured them opening it up, awed by my expensive stationery & wordsmithing…and immediately calling me up, demanding I come in right away for an interview.

Of course, they’d then offer me the job.

I’d play coy & not jump at it, negotiating my way to a higher salary or better perks.

In the end, I’d accept & we’d all live happily ever after… with me finally in a position that offers a little more creativity and a little less “chained to my desk, looking at the same faces every goddamn day.”

In reality, though?  The job market sucks & people way more talented, qualified, educated, & desperate than I are also looking for work.

As I pore over the listings, I’ve found a disturbing trend.   Because there is nothing like a job search to open your eyes to what the economy is really like!

The jobs that I’m more than qualified for… are now requiring college degrees.   And pay hourly rates in the SINGLE DIGITS!

A couple weeks ago, I found a post looking for people to work in the complaint department at a jelly factory.  You could possibly work your way up to customer service, but had to have a Bachelor’s Degree to start.

(First of all, who the fuck complains about jelly?!)

A job I saw today required an Associates Degree, but started at $9/hr.  Oh, but they’ll give you $11/hr if you have that degree and at least 2 years’ experience in the field!

I don’t care where you live, $9/hr is NOT a living wage!  But there are so many really desperate people out there that that company will find someone to take it…despite the degree that they invested so much money and time into.  So they’re willing to work for peanuts just to keep food on the table & their names off the welfare rolls.

In a lot of ways, I’m glad I didn’t go to college.

– Not going introduced me to my husband, leading to 4 great kids (who are all going or have gone to college & will hopefully never have to listen to old ladies bitch about  jelly!).

– I don’t have student loans to repay (while trying to find work at jobs that start at $9 AN HOUR!)

But honestly, I really just have never figured out what I wanted to be when I grow up.   I assumed I would eventually stumble upon something that I loved.  That hasn’t happened, and I envy the people who can honestly say they love what they do.

So, I’ll keep looking to find the love.  But I’m still waiting for that phone call, dream job!

January 31, 2012 Posted by | Family, Friends, Kids, People, Rant, Work | | 2 Comments

The Big Guy is my Homeboy

Dudes, I have GREAT NEWS!!!

I’m so excited, but had to wait ALL DAY before I could share with you!!  (See, I have a little thing called a “JOB”  & they don’t exactly pay me to write.   They should, but they don’t.)  ANYWAY…

Remember a while back, I told you that when Maury Povich called, I was taking y’all with me?  (No?  Click here.)  Okay.. so we didn’t exactly score that all-expense-paid trip to NYC…Yet.

But this is EVEN BETTER than traveling with my posse to be filmed on Maury as a professional dirty girl!!  (Maybe…  I do like the “Professional Dirty Girl” title.)

Apparently, I have the ear of The Big Guy!

Not Maury.

No, not God.   I already told you, I don’t believe in him.

No… It’s THE PRESIDENT!!!  Of the United States.  As in Barack Obama!  And, not just a Bobblehead Barack either.  The real deal!  (You can keep your comments on whether or not the real deal Barack can also be counted as Bobblehead Barack to yourself.)

See, just a few days ago, I posted this rant about anti-gay discrimination.

And, what do I find on the news sites today?   THIS!!


Apparently, Obama is a Bonesy fan!  Who knew?!

Basically, this means the president listens to me WAY better than my husband or kids do.  I’d better get to work on that.  I mean, I am technically second in command now.  It’s practically treason to disobey me at this point, FAMILY!

Also, Joe Biden, you can just get your ass in line right behind me.  You kinda remind me of Smiling Bob from the Enzyte commercials, so it’s a little tough to take you seriously.

So here’s the thing… We totally need to take advantage of this news!  Now that we know Obama listens to me, we can give him a big ol’ list of stuff we need him to fix before he gets rousted from office!  I mean, seriously, he’s on limited time here.  Whether you like him or not, you have to admit there is no way he is getting a second term.  And, when Barack’s out of office, so am I!   I’m a bit of a slacker.  So, as cool as it sounds, “Leader of the Free World” is NOT something I want to put on my resume.  That’s just too much damn responsibility & I am not down with all that.  Also, business suits & a bob are not exactly my style.

So, I’ll just stick to my customer service gig for now, thank you very much.  And blogging, of course.  It doesn’t pay, but I’m wielding some serious power these days!

February 23, 2011 Posted by | Friends, Rant, Work | 8 Comments

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