Snip, snip…

So this is my latest haircut. I kinda like it. I'm not afraid to do things with my hair. It grows so quickly and it's curly enough to hide a lot of fuck-ups (like me cutting my own bangs with fingernail clippers). Anyway, I go to these $12 places because I can't bear the thought of $60 for something that will be grown out an inch in 4 weeks. I also color the snot out of it to hide the grey. When I get enough grey to make a difference, I may let it go.

When you go to a $12 place, it's like drawing straws…you never know what you're gonna end up with, but that's the fun of it. So I tell the $12 lady,

"Cut this curly mess so I don't have to use products in it, don't have to blow dry it or iron it. If I have to blow dry it I will look like a seeded dandelion. If I iron it and encounter .002% humidity, in 5 minutes it will look like it went back to the Motherland. I want to wash it, scrunch it, and go. So…I suggest you stack it all around, take weight off the top, notch it a little on the left, none on the right (because it's thinner than the left side), layer it all over…I don't want 2 hairs the same length, and keep the bangs short – blend them in to the top and sides. Other than that, do whatever you want with it."

I look tired in these pics (which I am) but here's how it ended up. It kind of looks like feathers on a chicken's ass, but:

 

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I look like I have a lazy eye. It's hard to take pics in a mirror because you can't use flash. Oh well.

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QotD: Sick Day

What's your favorite thing about being sick?

Getting to tell really twisted jokes in unappropriate places. Oh wait…

You mean ill? Ok, then I would have to say my favorite part of being sick is the first day I show improvement. I rarely get ill. I cannot remember the last time I even had a head cold, but I remember what it's like to be really sick and then get better. The first day back to normal feels so good that it makes me appreciate how healthy I really am most of the time, consider the condition I'm in and my tendency to do the most abusive, unhealthy things to myself. 

I'm often tired, my knee hurts most days, I have high cholestrol, hypertension since I was in my 20's, I could stand to lose a pound or 40, but I'm chalking that up to being spayed and middle aged. The cigarettes elevate my blood pressure, but calm my nerves, and when I'm hittin' the Jim Beam it makes me tired (but my knee feels pretty damn good). So there you have it. Everything in life is a trade-off.

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QotD: No Laughing Matter

What do you think is too serious to joke around about?

There are few things in my mind that one cannot find humor in, but timing is everything. (see Easter is Cancelled) Finding humor is often how I categorize and cope with different circumstances. If after some time has passed I cannot find one thing humorous about an event or situation, it must be a really, really bad thing, and there should be no T-Shirts made from it……….lol.

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QotD: Friends Forever

What do you bring most to a friendship?

Loyalty and the ability to allow without judging.

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So…I’m on my second box of wine…

…vintage, I'd say, oh…..last week? (lol) It's times like these I often reflect upon how at times lean, my dogs can go from Iams to Old Roy and only turn their noses up for a day or so before looking forward to meal-time again. I've acquired a tolerance for merlot at $11.99/gal (which is less than I'm spending on gas these days).

 

I'm not gonna write much tonight. It's Friday night — my favorite few hours of the week, and I'm sitting here in my jammies — all chilled out on my boxed wine and relishing the thought of the next two days off. Every Friday to me feels like the last day of school for the year. Every Sunday night carries the same dread as the last day of summer vacation.

 

I haven't posted much lately or visited my fellow Voxer's sites; for that I apologize. I've been living in fear of my job for the last few weeks, and the tension between me and my micromanaging immediate stuporvisor, whom I will now refer to as the Dragon Lady (thanks, Mr. U) has escalated to an all-time high. Much, much stress since I am a single-income household, and live a paycheck away from disaster at all times. When I'm stressed and powerless to change things, I withdraw into this black hole. I've recently relieved myself of the stress and I feel almost good as new.

 

Two weeks ago, Dragon lady wrote me up for a second time. Her quest to knock me down has been deemed by my coworkers and peers as definitely personal on her part. This is an office comprised of strictly educated, professional adults. They aren't idiots. This write-up was three pages long and the shoddiest piece of fiction I'd ever read. Our manager, (her boss) Dragon Lady and I met behind closed doors. The fur flew, and I unloaded on her. It soon became evident that Manager did NOT want to be in the middle of two fighting bitches. At the end, she whips out this 3-page piece of garbage and requests that I sign it. I told her basically to fuck off, that I wasn't signing anything with which I didn't agree. In front of her Manager goes, "scratch thru whatever you like – I don't care if you white out this whole paragraph, just sign that you know what your duties are as listed here."  

 

…which absolutely roiled her hide.

 

Before Dragon Lady was promoted to her position, Manager has depended on me many times to help him out of tight spots and come up with innovative ideas and shortcuts, and we've developed a good working and personal relationship until this. He just wanted peace in the garden, and for us all to go on back to work. 

 

I refused to sign it until I'd had a chance to edit it, and add my response. It's now two weeks later and neither have asked for it. In fact, they act like the whole incident never happened. Perhaps they could tell by my demeanor that I had reached the point of no return, the one where the look in my eye drove home the reality that I can find another job a lot sooner than they can find another Administrator. That, or the fact that I made a point to verbalize the buzzwords "hostile environment" during my dressdown, and they've each had time to think about it. Orrrrr…the fact that I flat caught her in a lie last week – designed to undercut me. She fucked up and I have documented proof.

 

Whatever. I know I'm right, she's wrong, and I will conduct myself no differently than I always have. I've worked for this company for 15 months since I sold my magazine, have never been late, never taken a sick day, often work through my lunch hour, and my skills as a past publisher have been integral in many ways to their operation and to their success in the eyes of the corporate office. She has no idea what all I have done and for whom. I do not have to prove my commitment to the company and it's goals because she wanted the file label fonts in Arial and I chose Tahoma. She's been my stuporvisor for exactly ten weeks. She can eat a giant bag of shit, and if I get fired, well, I was lookin' for a job when I found this one. I've lived out of my Jeep before – I will do it again before she owns my spirit. [/soap box]

 

So how's everyone else's Friday night? I'm gonna go squeeze the nipple on the wine bladder and get another glass. It's like having a wine cow, right in my refrigerator. 

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Easter is cancelled…

Easteriscancelled

lol….somebody went to some trouble…

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Friggin’ Wine in a Box…

Aka, Ya get What Ya Pay For. I can't believe I did it, but…….I bought friggin' wine in a box today:

 

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I had an Australian Shiraz 2004 in my hand, and a nicer California cabernet in the other….and then I remembered all the bills due this week, put the bottles (with their cute bottom dimples) back on the shelf and grabbed the flat-bottomed BOX of Merlot…for $11.99. It was going to be a cholesterol healthy endeavor — a couple of glasses of red wine in the evening instead of the vessel-constricting, mind-numbing staple, Jim Beam. As you can see, it nudged the whiskey to the side, and the real health drink, the unopened jar of tomato, juice to the back. (After this box of wine, a bottle of Stolie might bring that tomato juice back to the front.)

The whole thing started with the fact that I hate the bitch who happens to be my new supervisor, and who wrote me up today "just cuz she could." (story for another time) Did I happen to mention I hate her lousy-ass, no-people-skills-havin', first-time-in-management-and-it-shows, everything-bothers-her-delicate-little-asthmatic-allergic-to-air, forever-prattling, never-STFU-sounds-like-she-sucked-in-a-tank-of-helium-assed self? I loathe her. Why is it that the dog with the most grating voice in the kennel is the compulsive barker? It just seems to be the law of nature. Those with the least to say whose voices mimic a car desperately in need of steering fluid, are the ones who never STFU? I want to tell her that she doesn't HAVE ASTHMA….she just needs to SHUT THE FUCK UP AND BREATHE once in a while. Our Marketing Manager gets up and shuts his office door each day when he hears the clack-clack-clack of her heels on the tile, knowing what follows… "Well, I'm HEEEEEEERE, everybody." He says it's like fingernails on a chalkboard. He's dead-on.

Back to the other reason I bought wine in a box for the first time since I was eighteen and hangin' out in Earth Shoes, bell-bottoms and tie-dyeds. I'm thinking, "If I'm gonna drown my sorrows, why not choose something cholesterol-fighting?" That, and a certain man-friend of mine in Canada once said in a flippant, fliratious manner, "Is there such thing as a bad Merlot?" 

*snorts* I've got news for him.

This stuff is red, it has alcohol in it (because I'm half-baked as I write this) and if you shut one eye and snuff it in slowly, it smells vaguely of wine. The most amusing part of the friggin'-wine-ina-box story, however, is the public's reaction when I bought it.

I frequent the local supermarket on my lunch hour, and will often select a couple of nice red Aussie or New Zealand dinner wines, pulling the front bottles out and looking behind for my favorite year (2004). Sometimes I score. Proud with my purchases, nobody ever says anything about my 2 choices (of several hundred on the shelf) when I put them on the check-out belt. No big deal. I work 20 miles outside the big city in sort of a "growing rural community"….okay, a redneck town, so I wouldn't expect it. I'm surprised the store carries anything other than my friggin'-wine-ina-box. Anyway, I had my taxes filed over my lunch hour, was running over on time (which is why the heifer wrote me up) so I made a quick salad at the deli-bar, grabbed my boxed wine, and headed for the checkout. Salad in one hand, box of wine in the other. I was stopped FOUR (4) times by women wanting to talk wines. I had set the box of wine up on the salad bar long enough to walk around and make my salad and it began. "Is this your wine?" (I was ready to hide under the salad bar sooner than admit it.)  "Yes, it's mine." And then the questions started.

In line at the checkout, the cashier and the lady behind me grilled me with questions about wine…"do you think a red wine is too dry…and what's the best to serve with spaghetti…did you buy that to have with your salad?" Like I'm some kind of wine connoisseur today… To their wide-eyed, taken back expression I said,

"Beats the shit out of me; I'm a whiskey person myself, but I hear there's no such thing as a bad merlot."

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Vox Hunt: Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

Show us a picture of your reflection.

Videonb

Going forward, but looking back.

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Not for tender ears…(!!!)

…but another gem I've got to share. You gotta to appreciate this for the artistic value – be that as it may. I make music videos from odds and ends clips and pics, so I can appreciate the frame-by-frame editing of this thing, PLUS, the the comedic genious of the person who said, "Hey, let's take some clips of Bert and Ernie and…."

Do not click on this if you can't stand to hear the word "fuck."

 

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AHHH…HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!! *wipes tears, sips drink*

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A scavenger’s meal

I looked around this bare pantry tonight and found these items that made a fairly nice meal. Certainly nothing fancy, but it was good. I had an Orange Roughy filet in the freezer, a 99-cent package of Kroger brand Dirty Rice, and some frozen green beans that I steamed. I lemon peppered the orange roughy and broiled it in a toaster oven. Yay! at "cooking for one."

 

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Of course I did the uncouth thing and washed it down with whiskey and Diet Coke…

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