Sometimes, when your life seems it's darkest, a little trash TV is just the salve you need.
I was watching Family Feud last night. Man oh man, did Richard Karn have his hands full! On one side was a family dressed in pseudo-matching gold shirts/blouses (except for one fella who opted for a flashy gold satin shirt...er...blouse...uhm, yeah). On the other side was a family who thought wearing hillbilly teeth on national, syndicated TV was a capital idea.
The gold shirt people handled most of the play time, but the hillybilly teeth kept stealing the points. By the end of it, I laughed my head off and felt a tad better for it. Sometimes, it's just unbelievable how stupid people can make themselves look to an entire nation.
Richard: "Name something with the word 'sponge' in its name or title."
"Spongebob!" Good answer! Good answer! "Survey says...." ::ding::
"Sponge bath!" Good answer! Good answer! "Survey says...." ::ding::
"Sponge cake!" Good answer! Good answer! "Survey says...." ::ding::
"Sponge nose!" Good answer! Good answer!
... Richard looks astonished....
"Survey says...." ::RRRR:: Strike one!
"Sponge cleaner!" Good answer! Good answer!
... Richard looks a little baffled....
"Survey says...." ::RRRR:: Strike two!
Richard to Satin Shirt: "Okay, you have two strikes. Your opponents are set to steal if you miss this answer. What'll it be?"
Satin Shirt: "Well, Richard, if I-uz in trouble with the law, I'd want my record..." Get ready for it. "...esponged."
Richard Karn had the best "WTF?" face I've ever seen, as the gold shirt family hollered "Good answer! Good answer!"
Hillbilly teeth stole the points and won the round. Shock and awe.
I saw the second best "WTF?" face when Satin Shirt was in the same one-more-strike-and-you-lose position and was asked to name a country that people admire. Canada is on the board. France, Italy, England.
And Satin Shirt says, (I'm seriously not making this up) "Europe!"
For a moment, I wondered how this man made the team. Then I heard to enthusiastic chorus of "Good answer!" and knew all I needed to.
Not that the Hillbilly Teeth family was much better, mind you. In the bonus round, they made 72 points (you need 200). Highlight:
"Name something you see at the side of the road."
"Carnage."
And the man was emphatic about it. Evidently, the survey people haven't been to his neighborhood.
Okay, so I know I shouldn't laugh at stupid people. They can't help it. But I needed the laugh and they were on national TV. Better than chicken soup.
---- Update: No kidding, I heard this one the other day: "Name something people stick pins in." Answer: "Their eyes." Wow.
Friday, April 14, 2006
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
HOT!!!
It's hot. Not outside. Inside.
I know, I can hear y'all now: "But you live in TEXAS, Blogget! What do you expect?"
Some people are surprised to learn that we get snow here. Well, most years. It seems the only consistent weather pattern we have around here anymore is wind. Anyhow, it's not all sun and sweltering here. We actually have winter.
But this is in my office! 9:30 AM and it's 80 degrees in here! For the love of all that's holy and comfortable, why can't they manage to fix an air conditioner? The summers have always been unbearable in this building, on the upper floor (there's only two!). I think the A/C man's truck has a permanent parking spot around back.
Wouldn't you LOVE to have a job where you can accomplish nothing good, day in and day out, and still be paid? Still have a job?
So, we all invest in fans. That means we now have wind inside, too.
The drone of the fans can lull you into dreamland in no time. So...::yawn::...I'll talk to y'all later....zzzzzzzzzzz
I know, I can hear y'all now: "But you live in TEXAS, Blogget! What do you expect?"
Some people are surprised to learn that we get snow here. Well, most years. It seems the only consistent weather pattern we have around here anymore is wind. Anyhow, it's not all sun and sweltering here. We actually have winter.
But this is in my office! 9:30 AM and it's 80 degrees in here! For the love of all that's holy and comfortable, why can't they manage to fix an air conditioner? The summers have always been unbearable in this building, on the upper floor (there's only two!). I think the A/C man's truck has a permanent parking spot around back.
Wouldn't you LOVE to have a job where you can accomplish nothing good, day in and day out, and still be paid? Still have a job?
So, we all invest in fans. That means we now have wind inside, too.
The drone of the fans can lull you into dreamland in no time. So...::yawn::...I'll talk to y'all later....zzzzzzzzzzz
Monday, April 10, 2006
His best friend
Honest, that's what he called me. He said I was the best friend he had, so he had to make sure things were worked out with me. What do you make of that?
As expected, he called back tonight. I'll spare you the color commentary and jump right into the Cliff's Notes version.
I explained myself a little more calmly. He's asking the impossible - for me to accept that he should take our children on a trip with his daughter (from the second marriage), his new girlfriend, and her son. For pity sake, they've been going out a very short time and they want to have this Big Happy Family trip with all the kids? How fair is that to the kids if this "just dating" thing doesn't work out? That's not even mentioning the appropriateness question.
Remove the girlfriend from the picture. I also don't believe he can handle the kids properly. Mr. Teenage Attitude can really push the limits. And he (my ex) is very insensitive to our daughter's viewpoint of everything. He's quickly forgotten the pain he inflicted when he sprung a new (and unpleasant) stepmom on them, quickly followed by a new baby. Those things don't go away so fast. And my daughter is particularly sensitive and that won't change. It's who she is.
The traveling thing is out for now. He does, however, want to spend more time with the kids. "I have to get your trust back," he said. Baby steps, because I'm hard to convince. I don't take chances with them.
For what it's worth, the new girlfriend had already suggested that he needed to spend more time with our daughter, doing things that interest her. So, she's seen the inequity, too. That must make it pretty hard for him to argue with me.
For the record, he still hasn't won an argument with me.
As expected, he called back tonight. I'll spare you the color commentary and jump right into the Cliff's Notes version.
I explained myself a little more calmly. He's asking the impossible - for me to accept that he should take our children on a trip with his daughter (from the second marriage), his new girlfriend, and her son. For pity sake, they've been going out a very short time and they want to have this Big Happy Family trip with all the kids? How fair is that to the kids if this "just dating" thing doesn't work out? That's not even mentioning the appropriateness question.
Remove the girlfriend from the picture. I also don't believe he can handle the kids properly. Mr. Teenage Attitude can really push the limits. And he (my ex) is very insensitive to our daughter's viewpoint of everything. He's quickly forgotten the pain he inflicted when he sprung a new (and unpleasant) stepmom on them, quickly followed by a new baby. Those things don't go away so fast. And my daughter is particularly sensitive and that won't change. It's who she is.
The traveling thing is out for now. He does, however, want to spend more time with the kids. "I have to get your trust back," he said. Baby steps, because I'm hard to convince. I don't take chances with them.
For what it's worth, the new girlfriend had already suggested that he needed to spend more time with our daughter, doing things that interest her. So, she's seen the inequity, too. That must make it pretty hard for him to argue with me.
For the record, he still hasn't won an argument with me.
The best part of being a divorced mom....
...really has to be dealing with your ex-husband/kids' father. No, really. It's delightful.
(Is the sarcasm dripping from your screen yet?)
He wasn't this way when we dated. Honestly. He was attentive and loving and caring and romantic. He adored me and showed it. A few years later, he made a career change. I won't name the business, but it's one where you're always "on" and have to really promote yourself. I didn't want him to become that. He promised; his family would always be #1.
He was wrong.
It didn't take long for him to expect everything to revolve around him. He made some astonishingly selfish choices and things degraded from there. I could no longer trust him in any way. Now, he's a completely self-centered asshole. It's hard to watch your kids have to learn that for themselves about their own dad, while he lets them down repeatedly. I hate that heartache for them.
He's just past his second divorce now, from a marriage that was a surprise to everyone, with a child that was a surprise to everyone. My daughter didn't take the surprise well. This little creature was taking what little attention she got from her dad. She's understandably resentful. As is my son, who was asked his opinion of the woman only to be told it didn't really matter because Dad had married her over the weekend. It was a bad scene, beginning to end.
He has a new girlfriend, who has a son. My kids like her and she seems nice enough. The problem I have isn't with her, really, but how my ex is handling this. My kids stand by and watch him wrestle and play with her son just like he used to with them. You can guess how that bugs them.
My daughter already has issues about "How much does Daddy love me?" because he doesn't get jazzed about her activities like he does my son's. It's sports vs dance, so guess which one gets Dad's attention and applause? I know, I know -- it shouldn't be either/or, but it is with him. The man just doesn't see the lopsided treatment he gives, no matter what's said.
This morning, Wonder Dad called me. He wanted to know if he and his girlfriend could take the kids out of town, to a ball game in Dallas.
Wow, was that the wrong button to push.
I went ballistic. I let him have it, with both everything-I-can't-stand-about-you barrels. First, there's the issue of traveling with someone he's just dating. I mean, it's not like they are even engaged or have been going out for long. And they want to pack up her kids and mine and go stay in a hotel together. Oh, lovely moral example, Dad.
Even if she wasn't in the picture, I wouldn't agree to this. Just look at what he's suggesting -- a activity (ball game) that only he and my son are interested in. As is usual in such situations with him, he has my daughter there to babysit his little daughter. He's taking care of his own wants and needs, disregarding the little girls who don't fit the picture. It just works out nicely for him that one is able to babysit the other. Lovely, lovely.
You read what my daughter is going through. She just can't take a slight from her Dad right now. And I really don't know how he'd handle the crap my son is dishing out lately. He tends to say things like, "If you think you can whip me, then we'll go outside right now." Great parenting technique. That's what I want -- a crying, heartbroken girl and a boy worried about physical punishment from his dad, all 300 miles away.
I hate getting mad like that. I was relentless. He tried at one point to say, "Listen, according to the divorce decree, I can...."
I cut him off and said, in my best I'll-cut-your-balls-off-and-feed-them-to-you voice, "You want to push that decree? Try it. I can push back. Things will get really ugly and you will not like how it turns out." Don't threaten the mama lion, you pill-poppin', self-centered, nutjob.
The thing is that money speaks with this guy, more than anything else. When the decree was written, he LIED to the court to get his child support set lower. I've never pushed that, but I certainly will if I have to.
"Don't threaten me," he responded. Ha. Watch me.
(Is the sarcasm dripping from your screen yet?)
He wasn't this way when we dated. Honestly. He was attentive and loving and caring and romantic. He adored me and showed it. A few years later, he made a career change. I won't name the business, but it's one where you're always "on" and have to really promote yourself. I didn't want him to become that. He promised; his family would always be #1.
He was wrong.
It didn't take long for him to expect everything to revolve around him. He made some astonishingly selfish choices and things degraded from there. I could no longer trust him in any way. Now, he's a completely self-centered asshole. It's hard to watch your kids have to learn that for themselves about their own dad, while he lets them down repeatedly. I hate that heartache for them.
He's just past his second divorce now, from a marriage that was a surprise to everyone, with a child that was a surprise to everyone. My daughter didn't take the surprise well. This little creature was taking what little attention she got from her dad. She's understandably resentful. As is my son, who was asked his opinion of the woman only to be told it didn't really matter because Dad had married her over the weekend. It was a bad scene, beginning to end.
He has a new girlfriend, who has a son. My kids like her and she seems nice enough. The problem I have isn't with her, really, but how my ex is handling this. My kids stand by and watch him wrestle and play with her son just like he used to with them. You can guess how that bugs them.
My daughter already has issues about "How much does Daddy love me?" because he doesn't get jazzed about her activities like he does my son's. It's sports vs dance, so guess which one gets Dad's attention and applause? I know, I know -- it shouldn't be either/or, but it is with him. The man just doesn't see the lopsided treatment he gives, no matter what's said.
This morning, Wonder Dad called me. He wanted to know if he and his girlfriend could take the kids out of town, to a ball game in Dallas.
Wow, was that the wrong button to push.
I went ballistic. I let him have it, with both everything-I-can't-stand-about-you barrels. First, there's the issue of traveling with someone he's just dating. I mean, it's not like they are even engaged or have been going out for long. And they want to pack up her kids and mine and go stay in a hotel together. Oh, lovely moral example, Dad.
Even if she wasn't in the picture, I wouldn't agree to this. Just look at what he's suggesting -- a activity (ball game) that only he and my son are interested in. As is usual in such situations with him, he has my daughter there to babysit his little daughter. He's taking care of his own wants and needs, disregarding the little girls who don't fit the picture. It just works out nicely for him that one is able to babysit the other. Lovely, lovely.
You read what my daughter is going through. She just can't take a slight from her Dad right now. And I really don't know how he'd handle the crap my son is dishing out lately. He tends to say things like, "If you think you can whip me, then we'll go outside right now." Great parenting technique. That's what I want -- a crying, heartbroken girl and a boy worried about physical punishment from his dad, all 300 miles away.
I hate getting mad like that. I was relentless. He tried at one point to say, "Listen, according to the divorce decree, I can...."
I cut him off and said, in my best I'll-cut-your-balls-off-and-feed-them-to-you voice, "You want to push that decree? Try it. I can push back. Things will get really ugly and you will not like how it turns out." Don't threaten the mama lion, you pill-poppin', self-centered, nutjob.
The thing is that money speaks with this guy, more than anything else. When the decree was written, he LIED to the court to get his child support set lower. I've never pushed that, but I certainly will if I have to.
"Don't threaten me," he responded. Ha. Watch me.
Friday, April 07, 2006
It's a mean, mean world
Life isn't so easy for my easy child.
My mother picked her up from school yesterday. She has a way of disarming kids, so that they eventually talk about things they don't want to talk about. I think it has something to do with ice cream.
At that same moment, I was talking to one of my daughter's teachers. We discussed some trends we've seen with her behavior and possible solutions. When I got off the phone, my mother called and told me about the conversation she had with my daughter.
My heart is broken. Why does the world have to be so mean for kids?
My child is very much like me as a child. She is imaginative and often "in her own world." We just have odd thoughts richoceting around in our heads and it's distracting! She is tall for her age and looks like your classic porcelain doll, with ivory skin and a mass of jet black curls. All of this makes her very unique and memorable. Unfortunately, it also makes her a target.
She has a very open, loving, trusting personality. She doesn't understand why anyone would not want to be her friend. I remember once when she was little, she climbed into the ball pit at Chuckee Cheese's. She said the the little girl in there, "Do you want to be my friend and play with me?" The girl said, "No." My daughter turned towards me and yelled from the ball pit, "SHE SAID NO!! SHE DOESN'T WANT TO BE MY FRIEND!!" She was completely flabberghasted and wanted to share her shock.
Now, she just cries.
Apparently, she is sitting at the back of the room in most of her classes, with girls she once considered friends. They discovered that she is easily distracted by noise. It completely disrupts her brain. So, they make noise. Incessantly.
"I'm the kid everyone likes to play tricks on," she said. "And they laugh and think it's funny. Not many people like me."
That made my mother cry. It made the teacher cry, too, when I asked for her help. I cried, remembering that pain all too well. A classroom of kids laughing at the jokes being made at my expense. Name calling. Sneers. The delighted looks as they broke your heart. What was fun about that? What was it about me that they felt I deserved that? I have never understood. Words really can hurt as much as sticks and stones.
And my child is living it, too. I enlisted the teacher's help, in such a way as my daughter's name won't be known as the "victim." She felt so bad for her. She's just been telling me what a spectacular kid she is, then we learn about this private hell she's been enduring.
You just want to hold them and protect them all of their lives. I hate that I can't. The school does anti-bully activities and such, but something just doesn't get through.
If you have kids or even just know kids, make sure they know the damage their words or unkindness can bring. I have the scars still, thirty-some-odd years later. I have memories I'll never share with anyone because I'm too ashamed. And it's happening to another generation. There are other ways to deal with someone who is a little different. Hurting them isn't the answer -- getting to know them is.
For now, I want to keep the world away from her, even though that's not realistic. I'd do just about anything to take away that pain.
My mother picked her up from school yesterday. She has a way of disarming kids, so that they eventually talk about things they don't want to talk about. I think it has something to do with ice cream.
At that same moment, I was talking to one of my daughter's teachers. We discussed some trends we've seen with her behavior and possible solutions. When I got off the phone, my mother called and told me about the conversation she had with my daughter.
My heart is broken. Why does the world have to be so mean for kids?
My child is very much like me as a child. She is imaginative and often "in her own world." We just have odd thoughts richoceting around in our heads and it's distracting! She is tall for her age and looks like your classic porcelain doll, with ivory skin and a mass of jet black curls. All of this makes her very unique and memorable. Unfortunately, it also makes her a target.
She has a very open, loving, trusting personality. She doesn't understand why anyone would not want to be her friend. I remember once when she was little, she climbed into the ball pit at Chuckee Cheese's. She said the the little girl in there, "Do you want to be my friend and play with me?" The girl said, "No." My daughter turned towards me and yelled from the ball pit, "SHE SAID NO!! SHE DOESN'T WANT TO BE MY FRIEND!!" She was completely flabberghasted and wanted to share her shock.
Now, she just cries.
Apparently, she is sitting at the back of the room in most of her classes, with girls she once considered friends. They discovered that she is easily distracted by noise. It completely disrupts her brain. So, they make noise. Incessantly.
"I'm the kid everyone likes to play tricks on," she said. "And they laugh and think it's funny. Not many people like me."
That made my mother cry. It made the teacher cry, too, when I asked for her help. I cried, remembering that pain all too well. A classroom of kids laughing at the jokes being made at my expense. Name calling. Sneers. The delighted looks as they broke your heart. What was fun about that? What was it about me that they felt I deserved that? I have never understood. Words really can hurt as much as sticks and stones.
And my child is living it, too. I enlisted the teacher's help, in such a way as my daughter's name won't be known as the "victim." She felt so bad for her. She's just been telling me what a spectacular kid she is, then we learn about this private hell she's been enduring.
You just want to hold them and protect them all of their lives. I hate that I can't. The school does anti-bully activities and such, but something just doesn't get through.
If you have kids or even just know kids, make sure they know the damage their words or unkindness can bring. I have the scars still, thirty-some-odd years later. I have memories I'll never share with anyone because I'm too ashamed. And it's happening to another generation. There are other ways to deal with someone who is a little different. Hurting them isn't the answer -- getting to know them is.
For now, I want to keep the world away from her, even though that's not realistic. I'd do just about anything to take away that pain.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
"I have a headache THIS big...."
...and it has LIFE written all over it!
I'm stressed to the gills today. Writing makes me feel better. So, here I am, dear diary.
Do you ever just reach a point where one more thing happens and your brain snaps? I mean, I could almost hear it snap like a twig.
"Darling child of mine, what's this in your folder?"
"A progress report."
"This looks pretty bad. Why didn't I see this two weeks ago?" (reading the date on it.)
"Uhm, I had Nana sign it."
"Nana?"
"Yeah, so I wouldn't get in trouble. I told her it was old, though."
"Well, you're in a lot more trouble now. What's this zero on your homework?"
"I didn't finish it."
"You've had four days now. Is it finished yet?"
"No."
"Why? You've been saying you didn't have homework this week."
"I dunno."
>>SNAP!<<
The end of the grading period is tomorrow. I can't do a danged thing about it now. The teachers probably wonder why they haven't heard from me, the hands-on parent. I can only hope my dear child pulled out the stops and brought up those grades on her own. Anyone laying bets on that?
And this is my easy child. She never does this kind of thing.
My son has been Mr. Attitude this week. Too much going on, with the time change, loads of homework, baseball, and the city track championship. I'm hearing some things about him and a particular girl that I hope aren't true. She is a typical teenager and can't keep her mouth shut, so her bragging makes its way to me. If she's honest, then he's lying. There's conversation #2 that I have to have tonight, but never wanted to have at all.
My boyfriend lost his job. It's not as bad as it sounds, but it's not good. It was only a part-time student job, but it was in his career field. The boss really targeted him and it looks as though the reason cited are bogus, so it wasn't a great environment to be in. Still, he has some trouble finding jobs because he has a rare disorder that is slightly disfiguring. It seems to turn people off. I worry about him not finding another job in his career field.
I'm concerned (again) about how our relationship is going right now. I'm getting that something's-going-on-and-I-dont-see it feeling. On the phone, he talks about all sorts of romantic ideas for our date nights. Then, the day of and in person, he says, "I dunno. What do you want to do?" Romance ::poof!:: forgotten. It's disheartening.
I think my aunt is dying and I haven't seen her in a long while. Her husband died last week and my folks traveled to his funeral. They were shocked at her state of debilitation. My mom wants to go visit again, but my dad hates this aunt. I'm in the middle of their bickering about it, and Mom's worry over her sister.
I got a kick-ass evaluation at work. So, I asked my boss about opportunities for advancement for me, in some restructuring that will happen at work soon. Totally broadsided the poor woman. She stammered and groped around for an answer, but honestly hadn't thought about it. That was disturbing. I mean, I don't want to be Director of Everything, but I'm over-educated and over-qualified for my position since finishing my Master's degree. I have proven a higher level of responsibility, especially in a leadership role. I like what I do, but I can do so much more! I'd like to move past the entry-level position I'm in. But she's never thought about it. I don't like the sound of that.
I've been traveling -- respresenting our division at international, national, and state conferences, presenting sessions and research, working on research with a high-powered woman who ranks well above my boss. So, I've visible outside of this little sphere of influence. I hate the thought of looking elsewhere, but I might have to.
I want a doctorate. I just have to find out how to pay for it. And have the time for it.
I haven't managed to finish the school newsletter yet, and it's deadline day. They'll just have to understand this time that I had bigger things going on.
I miss my dog.
Okay, stress-vent over for now. Thanks for listening :o)
I'm stressed to the gills today. Writing makes me feel better. So, here I am, dear diary.
Do you ever just reach a point where one more thing happens and your brain snaps? I mean, I could almost hear it snap like a twig.
"Darling child of mine, what's this in your folder?"
"A progress report."
"This looks pretty bad. Why didn't I see this two weeks ago?" (reading the date on it.)
"Uhm, I had Nana sign it."
"Nana?"
"Yeah, so I wouldn't get in trouble. I told her it was old, though."
"Well, you're in a lot more trouble now. What's this zero on your homework?"
"I didn't finish it."
"You've had four days now. Is it finished yet?"
"No."
"Why? You've been saying you didn't have homework this week."
"I dunno."
>>SNAP!<<
The end of the grading period is tomorrow. I can't do a danged thing about it now. The teachers probably wonder why they haven't heard from me, the hands-on parent. I can only hope my dear child pulled out the stops and brought up those grades on her own. Anyone laying bets on that?
And this is my easy child. She never does this kind of thing.
My son has been Mr. Attitude this week. Too much going on, with the time change, loads of homework, baseball, and the city track championship. I'm hearing some things about him and a particular girl that I hope aren't true. She is a typical teenager and can't keep her mouth shut, so her bragging makes its way to me. If she's honest, then he's lying. There's conversation #2 that I have to have tonight, but never wanted to have at all.
My boyfriend lost his job. It's not as bad as it sounds, but it's not good. It was only a part-time student job, but it was in his career field. The boss really targeted him and it looks as though the reason cited are bogus, so it wasn't a great environment to be in. Still, he has some trouble finding jobs because he has a rare disorder that is slightly disfiguring. It seems to turn people off. I worry about him not finding another job in his career field.
I'm concerned (again) about how our relationship is going right now. I'm getting that something's-going-on-and-I-dont-see it feeling. On the phone, he talks about all sorts of romantic ideas for our date nights. Then, the day of and in person, he says, "I dunno. What do you want to do?" Romance ::poof!:: forgotten. It's disheartening.
I think my aunt is dying and I haven't seen her in a long while. Her husband died last week and my folks traveled to his funeral. They were shocked at her state of debilitation. My mom wants to go visit again, but my dad hates this aunt. I'm in the middle of their bickering about it, and Mom's worry over her sister.
I got a kick-ass evaluation at work. So, I asked my boss about opportunities for advancement for me, in some restructuring that will happen at work soon. Totally broadsided the poor woman. She stammered and groped around for an answer, but honestly hadn't thought about it. That was disturbing. I mean, I don't want to be Director of Everything, but I'm over-educated and over-qualified for my position since finishing my Master's degree. I have proven a higher level of responsibility, especially in a leadership role. I like what I do, but I can do so much more! I'd like to move past the entry-level position I'm in. But she's never thought about it. I don't like the sound of that.
I've been traveling -- respresenting our division at international, national, and state conferences, presenting sessions and research, working on research with a high-powered woman who ranks well above my boss. So, I've visible outside of this little sphere of influence. I hate the thought of looking elsewhere, but I might have to.
I want a doctorate. I just have to find out how to pay for it. And have the time for it.
I haven't managed to finish the school newsletter yet, and it's deadline day. They'll just have to understand this time that I had bigger things going on.
I miss my dog.
Okay, stress-vent over for now. Thanks for listening :o)
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Does this make sense?
Okay, so I've been getting emails from some guy who calls himself MC. It's tidbits of this romantic writing he's done about some woman he's supposedly worshipping like a goddess. He tells me it has -- gulp -- 15 parts! He says, "I'll keep sending it to you, to get you in the mood."
Wait. "In the mood"? I don't think so.
So, just to be sure we're on the same page, he knows nothing about me. Hasn't read the blog. I mean he knows NOTHING. He asks one question of me -- will I send him a picture? Uhm, no.
See, I'm no idiot. I fully realize that I'm not the only woman he's sending this to, to get her "in the mood." For what, he never specifically says, but the nature of the writing makes it a safe assumption. So, I tell him that if the writing is supposed to be "mood-inspiring," then it loses some impact when you know it's not for you, but instead going to many women.
That apparently wasn't clear.
He writes back and tells me I'm oh-so-wrong. The 15-parter was actually written about and for a specific woman he knows.
Let's check this again. He's hoping to get other women "in the mood" by sending them romantic writings (in 15 parts) definitely meant for another woman.
There's something about women and getting them "in the mood" that he's missing. Yes?
He makes no attempt to get to know me. He doesn't read my profile or any of the blog. He just wants my picture and wants me to melt into a puddle of romantic surrender, in 15 parts. Be still my heart. How can I possibly resist.
For anyone who has read this blog for long, you know how much his kind of attitude gets under my skin. So, do you think I resisted the urge to tell him why this isn't appealing to me? You know me so well, my friends!
So, I told him. He took exception and said I just didn't "get it." Oh no, I "get it" pretty clearly. He's the one not "getting IT," if you know what I mean. I told him to stop writing to me.
He ignored me (surprise) to let me know he could write a NOVEL of this stuff, but the message degraded into indecipherable nonsense. Scary. Again, I told him to stop writing to me.
He ignored me again to say he didn't want to waste any more time on me and -- get this -- told me to stop replying! Is that rich or what? "I'm going to ignore your request to stop writing, but you better stop replying!" Does this make sense to anyone else?
I blocked him. But not before replying to tell him so.
Wait. "In the mood"? I don't think so.
So, just to be sure we're on the same page, he knows nothing about me. Hasn't read the blog. I mean he knows NOTHING. He asks one question of me -- will I send him a picture? Uhm, no.
See, I'm no idiot. I fully realize that I'm not the only woman he's sending this to, to get her "in the mood." For what, he never specifically says, but the nature of the writing makes it a safe assumption. So, I tell him that if the writing is supposed to be "mood-inspiring," then it loses some impact when you know it's not for you, but instead going to many women.
That apparently wasn't clear.
He writes back and tells me I'm oh-so-wrong. The 15-parter was actually written about and for a specific woman he knows.
Let's check this again. He's hoping to get other women "in the mood" by sending them romantic writings (in 15 parts) definitely meant for another woman.
There's something about women and getting them "in the mood" that he's missing. Yes?
He makes no attempt to get to know me. He doesn't read my profile or any of the blog. He just wants my picture and wants me to melt into a puddle of romantic surrender, in 15 parts. Be still my heart. How can I possibly resist.
For anyone who has read this blog for long, you know how much his kind of attitude gets under my skin. So, do you think I resisted the urge to tell him why this isn't appealing to me? You know me so well, my friends!
So, I told him. He took exception and said I just didn't "get it." Oh no, I "get it" pretty clearly. He's the one not "getting IT," if you know what I mean. I told him to stop writing to me.
He ignored me (surprise) to let me know he could write a NOVEL of this stuff, but the message degraded into indecipherable nonsense. Scary. Again, I told him to stop writing to me.
He ignored me again to say he didn't want to waste any more time on me and -- get this -- told me to stop replying! Is that rich or what? "I'm going to ignore your request to stop writing, but you better stop replying!" Does this make sense to anyone else?
I blocked him. But not before replying to tell him so.
Glam I Am (Not)
I realized something last night, while at the ball park. Some women can pull off the wind-blown look and still have sex appeal.
I am not one of them. Wind makes me look like a bag lady.
We have lots of wind here. Wind and dirt, once the cotton comes in and there's nothing to hold down the soil. Check out the pic of Texas Tech on a windy day. No, the coloring hasn't been altered -- that's reality.
In the spring time, Mother Nature throws in some rain with the wind and dirt. Ever seen blowing mud? Welcome to Lubbock.
My hair is curly. Always has been and I've never resented it. As though you haven't guessed already, I like being an individual. Red, curly hair certainly makes me memorable.
I got a hair wrap a couple of weeks ago. I can hide it to be my professional self, then let it down with the curls to be my funky self. For the couple of months it'll last, I'm going to enjoy it, but some people just don't get it. Some people = my ex.
"So, what's the hair thing represent?"
"'Represent?' It doesn't 'represent' anything, other than I like it."
"Yeah, but what does it mean? What's the significance?"
"It's just me. That's all. Just fun."
He hmpfed at me.
I now own a hoodie. If you're going to blow the glam thing anyhow, might as well do it completely! I love baseball season, so I won't be staying in. So, while it's cool enough, it's either bag lady or hoodie for me.
I am not one of them. Wind makes me look like a bag lady.
We have lots of wind here. Wind and dirt, once the cotton comes in and there's nothing to hold down the soil. Check out the pic of Texas Tech on a windy day. No, the coloring hasn't been altered -- that's reality. In the spring time, Mother Nature throws in some rain with the wind and dirt. Ever seen blowing mud? Welcome to Lubbock.
My hair is curly. Always has been and I've never resented it. As though you haven't guessed already, I like being an individual. Red, curly hair certainly makes me memorable.
I got a hair wrap a couple of weeks ago. I can hide it to be my professional self, then let it down with the curls to be my funky self. For the couple of months it'll last, I'm going to enjoy it, but some people just don't get it. Some people = my ex.
"So, what's the hair thing represent?"
"'Represent?' It doesn't 'represent' anything, other than I like it."
"Yeah, but what does it mean? What's the significance?"
"It's just me. That's all. Just fun."
He hmpfed at me.
I now own a hoodie. If you're going to blow the glam thing anyhow, might as well do it completely! I love baseball season, so I won't be staying in. So, while it's cool enough, it's either bag lady or hoodie for me.
Friday, March 24, 2006
Here, there, and everywhere
It's been a long time since I've posted anything of substance. Life has been going great guns, at the usual rollercoaster pace.
That conference went extremely well. Our presentation was smooth and popular, with one exception. See, this presentation was meant to show how we solved a common administrative issue in our field. We wanted to share with colleagues our process and solution, but one that works for the way WE do business. The whole point was to show how to develop a solution tailored to each organization's needs. We are not a vendor.
This one jerk showed up for the session, but didn't want to hear how we developed our system (which was the point), but just wanted to go somewhere and download it. He literally raised his hand in the middle of our presentation, interupting what was being said, to say, "I just want to know where I go to download it." Pen poised. Waiting for a URL.
Back up, bud. Let me get this straight. We put in a year's work to develop this system that helps simplify a rather complex administrative issue. You waltz into this session and want it all handed to you. I don't think so.
Everyone else had a nice discussion on how our method could be adapted to their organization's needs. All's well that ends well, I suppose.
He was pissed. He slammed us on the session evaluation, but that's okay. I am the only person who got the evaluations. ::grin::
I missed the big socializing event on the first night of the conference, but that's a-okay. I snagged a flight and got to see Nickelback live. Man, that show is almost as good as sex. I'm always so sorry when it's over. Full throttle, wall of sound, rock 'n' roll. Chad Kroeger's voice is like pure testosterone washing over me and what's not to like about that?
So, I snagged a red-eye flight back to the conference. Rocker chick to brainiac professional in just a couple of hours. Rock on.
That week, I managed to travel each day. Conference, concert, back to conference, back home, off on vacation with the kids (which was a two-and-a-half day drive). Exhausting, but dang worth it.
Anyone surprised I came down with a cold on the way home from spring break vacation? No, I didn't think so.
Revisiting an old issue: my son and his hormones. To make a long story short, I discovered that the school is giving their students a little too much freedom, i.e. unsupervised time. He's 14. Not allowed to date, but there's a girl he likes. More importantly, she likes him and is aggressive about it. I found out she started school early. She's actually just 12, but much more worldly than her mother knows. I've talked to her mom. The poor woman needs to keep up with her daughter's Xanga page.
At 12, she's very manipulative and agressive towards boys. She talks about her many past boyfriends, by name. She calls our house at all hours, even though her mother told me she's not allowed to call boys. The child has been told our no-calling hours, but the phone still rings. To me, this is a serious disregard for our authority.
My son is showing little backbone, allowing her to call the shots. This little relationship has gone too far, too fast.
I asked him, "Whose idea was it to be called 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend'?"
"Hers."
"Whose idea was it to kiss?"
"Hers."
"Whose idea is this 'going steady' thing?"
"Hers."
He didn't want it to go there, but did nothing to stand up for himself. Now, his grades are starting to tank and he has three weeks to fix it. You can bet I'm in all kinds of his business. He doesn't cross his eyes without me knowing it happened. His day is regimented. His freedoms at home with the phone and time alone are gone. That unsupervised time at school is gone. If he sneezes at school, I know it.
You'd think he'd be pretty sick of me. You'd think he'd be mad as hell at me. Know what? He's the happiest I've seen him in a long time.
He told this girl that they needed to get serious about their responsibilities and their grades, and not spend so much time on the phone and writing notes to each other. I've noticed she's chilled out since then. I listened to a smidge of their conversation on the phone the other night. He was trying to say something sweet to her, but she responded with, "Oh! Listen to this song! It sounds like Pink!" Her Xanga mentions another boy at school who likes her.
I smell a heartache coming. He's not playing by her rules anymore and I don't think she like it. As always, I can be there for him. The first cut is the deepest, but he's still my baby and I'll help back to his feet.
Take care all!
Blogget
That conference went extremely well. Our presentation was smooth and popular, with one exception. See, this presentation was meant to show how we solved a common administrative issue in our field. We wanted to share with colleagues our process and solution, but one that works for the way WE do business. The whole point was to show how to develop a solution tailored to each organization's needs. We are not a vendor.
This one jerk showed up for the session, but didn't want to hear how we developed our system (which was the point), but just wanted to go somewhere and download it. He literally raised his hand in the middle of our presentation, interupting what was being said, to say, "I just want to know where I go to download it." Pen poised. Waiting for a URL.
Back up, bud. Let me get this straight. We put in a year's work to develop this system that helps simplify a rather complex administrative issue. You waltz into this session and want it all handed to you. I don't think so.
Everyone else had a nice discussion on how our method could be adapted to their organization's needs. All's well that ends well, I suppose.
He was pissed. He slammed us on the session evaluation, but that's okay. I am the only person who got the evaluations. ::grin::
I missed the big socializing event on the first night of the conference, but that's a-okay. I snagged a flight and got to see Nickelback live. Man, that show is almost as good as sex. I'm always so sorry when it's over. Full throttle, wall of sound, rock 'n' roll. Chad Kroeger's voice is like pure testosterone washing over me and what's not to like about that?
So, I snagged a red-eye flight back to the conference. Rocker chick to brainiac professional in just a couple of hours. Rock on.
That week, I managed to travel each day. Conference, concert, back to conference, back home, off on vacation with the kids (which was a two-and-a-half day drive). Exhausting, but dang worth it.
Anyone surprised I came down with a cold on the way home from spring break vacation? No, I didn't think so.
Revisiting an old issue: my son and his hormones. To make a long story short, I discovered that the school is giving their students a little too much freedom, i.e. unsupervised time. He's 14. Not allowed to date, but there's a girl he likes. More importantly, she likes him and is aggressive about it. I found out she started school early. She's actually just 12, but much more worldly than her mother knows. I've talked to her mom. The poor woman needs to keep up with her daughter's Xanga page.
At 12, she's very manipulative and agressive towards boys. She talks about her many past boyfriends, by name. She calls our house at all hours, even though her mother told me she's not allowed to call boys. The child has been told our no-calling hours, but the phone still rings. To me, this is a serious disregard for our authority.
My son is showing little backbone, allowing her to call the shots. This little relationship has gone too far, too fast.
I asked him, "Whose idea was it to be called 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend'?"
"Hers."
"Whose idea was it to kiss?"
"Hers."
"Whose idea is this 'going steady' thing?"
"Hers."
He didn't want it to go there, but did nothing to stand up for himself. Now, his grades are starting to tank and he has three weeks to fix it. You can bet I'm in all kinds of his business. He doesn't cross his eyes without me knowing it happened. His day is regimented. His freedoms at home with the phone and time alone are gone. That unsupervised time at school is gone. If he sneezes at school, I know it.
You'd think he'd be pretty sick of me. You'd think he'd be mad as hell at me. Know what? He's the happiest I've seen him in a long time.
He told this girl that they needed to get serious about their responsibilities and their grades, and not spend so much time on the phone and writing notes to each other. I've noticed she's chilled out since then. I listened to a smidge of their conversation on the phone the other night. He was trying to say something sweet to her, but she responded with, "Oh! Listen to this song! It sounds like Pink!" Her Xanga mentions another boy at school who likes her.
I smell a heartache coming. He's not playing by her rules anymore and I don't think she like it. As always, I can be there for him. The first cut is the deepest, but he's still my baby and I'll help back to his feet.
Take care all!
Blogget
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Friday, February 24, 2006
Pickled update
After standing up cheater-sex-addict guy yesterday, I...er...my character, rather...received a couple of really angry emails from him about how I was "full of it" and just a "no show." He wrote them while at work, unaware that I'd emailed everything to his wife already.
Well, something happened before this 8:00 CST this morning. That's about the time I received an email from him that said he just wanted to let me know that he wasn't going to be online anymore. He confessed that he'd been seeing a therapist for his "ways" and that being stood up was a "wake up call." He saw the therapist again and decided he won't be chatting or doing anything but being a "good boy." His quote: "I realize I have a good thing at home and dont want to ruin it."
IF he's sincere, I believe this is the best possible outcome for their family. I don't know if he's being truthful. He has two "married but looking" profiles online and one of them is gone this morning. I have no way of knowing if she read what I sent, but I did include those links. The timing sure is coincidental, yes?
So, here's to his reformation! I hope he's sincere, and I hope they can have a "normal" life someday. It'll be rough, but I pray they can make it right.
Well, something happened before this 8:00 CST this morning. That's about the time I received an email from him that said he just wanted to let me know that he wasn't going to be online anymore. He confessed that he'd been seeing a therapist for his "ways" and that being stood up was a "wake up call." He saw the therapist again and decided he won't be chatting or doing anything but being a "good boy." His quote: "I realize I have a good thing at home and dont want to ruin it."
IF he's sincere, I believe this is the best possible outcome for their family. I don't know if he's being truthful. He has two "married but looking" profiles online and one of them is gone this morning. I have no way of knowing if she read what I sent, but I did include those links. The timing sure is coincidental, yes?
So, here's to his reformation! I hope he's sincere, and I hope they can have a "normal" life someday. It'll be rough, but I pray they can make it right.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Revisiting the "fine pickle"
If you missed it, you might want to read the "Here's a fine pickle" post. It's been a little while, but I took everyone's advice and decided to tell that poor woman that her husband is sleeping with anything that'll let him near. It had to be anonymous, though. If this guy could find me, I might be in big trouble.
If it's going to be anonymous, then I'd better have irrefutable proof for her. I set to work on that. I posted a profile he couldn't resist, complete with an X-rated pic of a partially nude woman, that I pulled from an amateur porn site. I wrote about the same kinds of things he put on his profile -- extramarital affairs, the need for discretion, etc. Then, he got a message from this new character I'd created.
He not only took the bait, but he also kept asking for more.
Between the emails and instant messages, I learned so much more that his wife needs to know. He has sex with other women in their car, their home, and their bed. He has sex in his office, after hours. He has sex in all of these places with more than one person at a time. He invited my character to group sex. He asked for really risky types of sex.
What he never asked for was personal information. He didn't want to know real names. I said my character had many, many partners, including strangers. I never mentioned safe sex or being disease free. Neither did he. Don't ask, don't tell.
We arranged to meet today, in a very specific spot. We talked about what kind of sex we'd have and he said it was okay to use his big SUV (no, that's not a euphemism!).
I told him I drove a type of car that I've never even been near. Yesterday, I cased the spot and found a few great vantage points. Today, I was early and he was late. He'd been had. As he waited to cheat again, I took pictures of his SUV in the arranged spot, with landmarks in the background that make it unmistakeable, and close-ups of the license plate to seal it. I think I'll include one of the pictures here -- that's him in the SUV, waiting in the romantic locale he picked. Whatta sweetheart.
I wrote her a long email. I explained the transcripts of the emails and instant messages and pictures. I attached the transcripts and the pictures. I found her personal email address on their son's school's PTA site, and then I sent it all along to her. None of the attachments had my information in them.
It's all in her court now. But I wanted all of you to know your advice was heard and taken. Thanks a bunch!
If it's going to be anonymous, then I'd better have irrefutable proof for her. I set to work on that. I posted a profile he couldn't resist, complete with an X-rated pic of a partially nude woman, that I pulled from an amateur porn site. I wrote about the same kinds of things he put on his profile -- extramarital affairs, the need for discretion, etc. Then, he got a message from this new character I'd created.
He not only took the bait, but he also kept asking for more.
Between the emails and instant messages, I learned so much more that his wife needs to know. He has sex with other women in their car, their home, and their bed. He has sex in his office, after hours. He has sex in all of these places with more than one person at a time. He invited my character to group sex. He asked for really risky types of sex.
What he never asked for was personal information. He didn't want to know real names. I said my character had many, many partners, including strangers. I never mentioned safe sex or being disease free. Neither did he. Don't ask, don't tell.
We arranged to meet today, in a very specific spot. We talked about what kind of sex we'd have and he said it was okay to use his big SUV (no, that's not a euphemism!).
I told him I drove a type of car that I've never even been near. Yesterday, I cased the spot and found a few great vantage points. Today, I was early and he was late. He'd been had. As he waited to cheat again, I took pictures of his SUV in the arranged spot, with landmarks in the background that make it unmistakeable, and close-ups of the license plate to seal it. I think I'll include one of the pictures here -- that's him in the SUV, waiting in the romantic locale he picked. Whatta sweetheart.I wrote her a long email. I explained the transcripts of the emails and instant messages and pictures. I attached the transcripts and the pictures. I found her personal email address on their son's school's PTA site, and then I sent it all along to her. None of the attachments had my information in them.
It's all in her court now. But I wanted all of you to know your advice was heard and taken. Thanks a bunch!
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Something fun to do with friends
Okay, so lots of things fall under that category. But that's another topic altogether....
This is one of those nifty personality thingies. Check it out and comment on mine, if you'd like:
http://kevan.org/johari?name=Blogget
I'll add the results HTML here when I start getting results to report.... Have fun! And Thank You for Your Support. ::wink::
This is one of those nifty personality thingies. Check it out and comment on mine, if you'd like:
http://kevan.org/johari?name=Blogget
I'll add the results HTML here when I start getting results to report.... Have fun! And Thank You for Your Support. ::wink::
Thursday, February 09, 2006
I love being underappreciated
I adore having my hard work and talents overlooked, don't you? That's why I went to school for eight years and paid more than I want to think about. That's why I sacrifice time I don't really have in the first place, to help out where I can -- because it was always a dream of mine to be taken for granted.
Heck, my kids do that for me. I don't need it from anyone else!
So, here's what happened.
Part 1:
I've mentioned before that I'm an active Mom when it comes to schools. They know me, they know my name, they know what I can/can't do. I've held PTA Board positions for four years now. This week, I have a very limited amount of time to do the school newsletter. Usualy not a problem because I have a system in place, which relies heavily on email. People adjusted and now work within it...most of the time.
A teacher calls me about an article she needs to place. She says she'll leave it in the office and I can pick it up there. Uhm, no I can't!! She forgets - I work outside of the home. Dropping by the school is something I have to plan in advance. This is deadline day.
I send her a note and many confusing details transpire, but the moral of the story is that there's nothing in my hot little hand at the end of the day. Er, days. I call and ask her if she can just read it to me over the phone.
"No, I don't think so. There's like...lemme see...5...10...30...40...uhm, 45 names on it."
"Really? That might be a problem. We don't have that much space."
Here's the part that pissed me off.
"Oh, the principal will be angry about that. We did it just fine last year."
First, chickadee, I don't give a rat's bohonkus if the principal is upset. He's not my boss. Let's remember who is doing the favor here. It's no skin off my nose if you do your own stinkin' newsletter.
Second, we did not do it "just fine last year." A quick check confirmed what I thought -- not only was this big list not in the newsletter last year, but there was no article at all about this group!
And I said so. She said, "Oh yes, there was! I wrote it myself!"
"Then it didn't get to me. I looked through every issue and there's nothing."
"Maybe it was on the back."
Do I look stupid to you? Er, do you imagine I look stupid?
"No, I have the computer files. I did the newsletter last year, too."
Her trap shut. I went on to tell her that I didn't know if I had time to type that whole thing. Wonder of wonders, she suddenly found a way to email it to me. In the end, I found a way to fit it in -- in an 8-point font.
Part 2:
We have a new system at work, to help us do the online part of what we do. I personally love it. My boss assigned a group of us to port old material into the new system. I'm the "Project Manager" of this group. I've figured out the nuts and bolts of this process and organized the group so that we're a porting machine! My boss had me head this thing because he has no time for it. I don't think he even knows how to use it. So, when questions come up, I get pulled into the meeting as the "expert." This place is meeting-obsessed.
So, that happened a couple of weeks ago. Two and a half hours of it. We were meeting with some out-of-towners about how to make our new system play nice with another system. At the end of this torment, my boss (who is sitting beside me) says, "I really have to hand it to Programmer 1 and Programmer 2 [names changed to protect the guilty]. If it weren't for their efforts, this system wouldn't have come together. It's due to their hard work that it's up and running."
WTF?!?! What haveI been doing all this time?!?!
As I'm wondering how to point this out without sounding like a big ol' ego-head, I hear someone clear her throat across the room.
"And Blogget [name changed again]. Don't forget that we wouldn't have anything to look at without Blogget putting it together."
My boss startles and looks at me. "Oh yes! Of course! But she loves this stuff."
WTF does that mean? I love doing it, therefore my contribution isn't as significant?
God bless that coworker for speaking up, though. It's good to know someone has your back!
Heck, my kids do that for me. I don't need it from anyone else!
So, here's what happened.
Part 1:
I've mentioned before that I'm an active Mom when it comes to schools. They know me, they know my name, they know what I can/can't do. I've held PTA Board positions for four years now. This week, I have a very limited amount of time to do the school newsletter. Usualy not a problem because I have a system in place, which relies heavily on email. People adjusted and now work within it...most of the time.
A teacher calls me about an article she needs to place. She says she'll leave it in the office and I can pick it up there. Uhm, no I can't!! She forgets - I work outside of the home. Dropping by the school is something I have to plan in advance. This is deadline day.
I send her a note and many confusing details transpire, but the moral of the story is that there's nothing in my hot little hand at the end of the day. Er, days. I call and ask her if she can just read it to me over the phone.
"No, I don't think so. There's like...lemme see...5...10...30...40...uhm, 45 names on it."
"Really? That might be a problem. We don't have that much space."
Here's the part that pissed me off.
"Oh, the principal will be angry about that. We did it just fine last year."
First, chickadee, I don't give a rat's bohonkus if the principal is upset. He's not my boss. Let's remember who is doing the favor here. It's no skin off my nose if you do your own stinkin' newsletter.
Second, we did not do it "just fine last year." A quick check confirmed what I thought -- not only was this big list not in the newsletter last year, but there was no article at all about this group!
And I said so. She said, "Oh yes, there was! I wrote it myself!"
"Then it didn't get to me. I looked through every issue and there's nothing."
"Maybe it was on the back."
Do I look stupid to you? Er, do you imagine I look stupid?
"No, I have the computer files. I did the newsletter last year, too."
Her trap shut. I went on to tell her that I didn't know if I had time to type that whole thing. Wonder of wonders, she suddenly found a way to email it to me. In the end, I found a way to fit it in -- in an 8-point font.
Part 2:
We have a new system at work, to help us do the online part of what we do. I personally love it. My boss assigned a group of us to port old material into the new system. I'm the "Project Manager" of this group. I've figured out the nuts and bolts of this process and organized the group so that we're a porting machine! My boss had me head this thing because he has no time for it. I don't think he even knows how to use it. So, when questions come up, I get pulled into the meeting as the "expert." This place is meeting-obsessed.
So, that happened a couple of weeks ago. Two and a half hours of it. We were meeting with some out-of-towners about how to make our new system play nice with another system. At the end of this torment, my boss (who is sitting beside me) says, "I really have to hand it to Programmer 1 and Programmer 2 [names changed to protect the guilty]. If it weren't for their efforts, this system wouldn't have come together. It's due to their hard work that it's up and running."
WTF?!?! What haveI been doing all this time?!?!
As I'm wondering how to point this out without sounding like a big ol' ego-head, I hear someone clear her throat across the room.
"And Blogget [name changed again]. Don't forget that we wouldn't have anything to look at without Blogget putting it together."
My boss startles and looks at me. "Oh yes! Of course! But she loves this stuff."
WTF does that mean? I love doing it, therefore my contribution isn't as significant?
God bless that coworker for speaking up, though. It's good to know someone has your back!
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Like a teenager....
...except that I have my own means, and such....
You see, I have a favorite band. I love 'em, love 'em, love 'em. Watching their lead singer gives me very unladylike thoughts. And they just ROCK. Full throttle wall of noise ROCK. I love it, love it, love it.
I have been to one of their concerts, but it was years ago. It totally blew me away. I couldn't get enough. I've been waiting for a fix ever since.
So, here I am, preparing to present a paper at a national conference. Big shot for my career. I'm presenting with colleagues, so they are counting on me and so are the conference people. We're planning the trip and it's all very exciting.
UNTIL I hear an announcement on the radio.
My favorite band is coming! Oh joy! Oh rapture!
...on the day I present at the conference.
God played a funny, funny joke.
Oh agony! Oh despair! It had to be THE day. The EXACT day, when I'll be elsewhere. THEY will be here.
Life is so not fair.
But wait! I'm a resourceful woman and I have friends who understand how I feel about this band.
So, I booked a flight. I'll present, go to a couple of sessions, and duck out early. Fly home. Rock my little heart out at the concert. Catch about 4 hours sleep. Fly back to the conference in the wee hours of the morning and finish the next two days there. I even got a good deal on the flight.
Ha! The best of all possible worlds.
Let's all sing along! "Hey, hey, I wanna be a rock star...."
You see, I have a favorite band. I love 'em, love 'em, love 'em. Watching their lead singer gives me very unladylike thoughts. And they just ROCK. Full throttle wall of noise ROCK. I love it, love it, love it.
I have been to one of their concerts, but it was years ago. It totally blew me away. I couldn't get enough. I've been waiting for a fix ever since.
So, here I am, preparing to present a paper at a national conference. Big shot for my career. I'm presenting with colleagues, so they are counting on me and so are the conference people. We're planning the trip and it's all very exciting.
UNTIL I hear an announcement on the radio.
My favorite band is coming! Oh joy! Oh rapture!
...on the day I present at the conference.
God played a funny, funny joke.
Oh agony! Oh despair! It had to be THE day. The EXACT day, when I'll be elsewhere. THEY will be here.
Life is so not fair.
But wait! I'm a resourceful woman and I have friends who understand how I feel about this band.
So, I booked a flight. I'll present, go to a couple of sessions, and duck out early. Fly home. Rock my little heart out at the concert. Catch about 4 hours sleep. Fly back to the conference in the wee hours of the morning and finish the next two days there. I even got a good deal on the flight.
Ha! The best of all possible worlds.
Let's all sing along! "Hey, hey, I wanna be a rock star...."
"Happy Imbolc!" (oh barf...)
I haven't talked about work in a long time, so I'm just sure you're dying to know what's been happening there. (Right....)
A little refresher, first. Here's what I said in my introduction of G:
She continues to answer things in other languages. Everyone in the office took a personality test. She sent her results to everyone in German. Google had a nifty logo for Mozart's birthday, with a few bars of music on it. She pop-quizzed everyone with "Can you name that key signature?"
How do you make someone with such a pathetic need for attention understand that (A) we just don't care and (B) she doesn't look smart - she looks like an idiot? It drives me out of my skull.
That said, I have to share what was in my email (and everyone else's in the office) this morning.
You could almost hear a collective "WTF?!" rising from the building.
After the pregnant silence that followed, we got this:
A coworker responded with, "What da hell...?" I cringed. That was it. The moment G was looking for. I think I heard a cackle of delight as she tappity-tapped away at her keyboard.
Oh barf.
Dang, what an idiot.
A little refresher, first. Here's what I said in my introduction of G:
"G of the "Intelligensia"
G is the newest one. I say "Intelligensia" not because I consider her among their number, but she certainly does. So many nice email discussions have come to a dead halt because she decided to respond in Latin or French, and it disgusted us into silence. We don't like show-offs.
In my experience with her, she has proven her incompetence repeatedly and persistently. For a kicker, she's also a liar and political maneuverer. She pulled a bunch of crap a couple of months ago, trying to take me down, but it all backfired in her face. See, I work above-board and within what I know my bosses will approve. Read: I cover my ass. She's an idiot. A Latin-French-speaking idiot.
She continues to answer things in other languages. Everyone in the office took a personality test. She sent her results to everyone in German. Google had a nifty logo for Mozart's birthday, with a few bars of music on it. She pop-quizzed everyone with "Can you name that key signature?"
How do you make someone with such a pathetic need for attention understand that (A) we just don't care and (B) she doesn't look smart - she looks like an idiot? It drives me out of my skull.
That said, I have to share what was in my email (and everyone else's in the office) this morning.
"Hey, happy Lughnassadh, y ‘all. Or, depending on your preference, happy Vasant Panchami or Imbolc."
You could almost hear a collective "WTF?!" rising from the building.
After the pregnant silence that followed, we got this:
"Think I was wrong about Lughnassadh. Imbolc is right, though. So have a happy one!"
A coworker responded with, "What da hell...?" I cringed. That was it. The moment G was looking for. I think I heard a cackle of delight as she tappity-tapped away at her keyboard.
"Lughnassadh and Imbolc are pagan holidays celebrating the end of seasons; Vasant Panchami is a Hindu festival devoted to Saraswati, the Hindu goddess of knowledge and wisdom (good one for us!). For that you’re supposed to wear yellow, but I forgot."
Oh barf.
Dang, what an idiot.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Thinking isn't always good
Or it just doesn't feel good, sometimes. It's uncomfortable and confusing and generally disagreeable. But necessary, I suppose.
I've been thinking about that meeting I wrote about on Saturday, with my writer friend. Boyfriend is a writer, too, so it's not like I can't talk to him about it. Sharing ideas with my writer friend energized me. He made me feel capable and worthwhile, in his confidence in me and my skills. His energy is so positive, it's infectious, even in little things.
For instance, an older lady was bussing tables and accidentally knocked over my cup. It had a lid, so nothing terrible happened, but she kept saying, "I'm so sorry." He looked at her and said, "No reason to be sorry. It's no problem. You have a nice evening, okay?" She looked surprised, but his kindness made her smile as she went along her way.
I hate to say it, but all I could think of was how Boyfriend would have snarled and glared, telling her through gritted teeth to go along her way. In his world, when someone screws up, they need to know they've screwed up, and feel stupid for screwing up. Unless the person is someone he finds interesting. That's a different problem altogether.
It made me sad to see the difference because it's how I've wanted Boyfriend to be for so long. I want him to just be nice, for himself and others. It feels good to be nice, you know? The thing is that he knows this. I've seen him have moments of kindness, times when he's helped those that others avoid. He knows what a difference a kindness makes, and also knows the damage an unkindness does. Yet, in the next moment, he can yell and gesture and make feel terrible. He's uneven that way.
Despite his vow to make himself "irreplaceable" to me, he hasn't carried through. I'm still as much the bearer of the brunt of his moods as I ever was. Maybe the contrast is so sharp in my mind because I went from my meeting to dropping by Boyfriend's for a moment. I was feeling good and thought it would be nice to talk to him. It wasn't a surprise -- he knew I might come by.
I could take it for only a few minutes. He stomped around and slammed things and yelled at the cats, for no real reason. He wasn't pissed about anything in particular. He just was in a(nother) mood, behaving badly, and making life unpleasant.
This should explain part of why I haven't brought up meeting my friend yet. If this is Boyfriend's baseline, I don't want to aggitate him. Yet.
As I said, I don't think there's a romatic thing happening with my friend. But he's inadvertently put a spotlight on things that stress and sadden me. I suppose I feel their absence when I'm not with Boyfriend. There's so much good between Boyfriend and I, but the not good is weighing on me.
More thinking....later.
I've been thinking about that meeting I wrote about on Saturday, with my writer friend. Boyfriend is a writer, too, so it's not like I can't talk to him about it. Sharing ideas with my writer friend energized me. He made me feel capable and worthwhile, in his confidence in me and my skills. His energy is so positive, it's infectious, even in little things.
For instance, an older lady was bussing tables and accidentally knocked over my cup. It had a lid, so nothing terrible happened, but she kept saying, "I'm so sorry." He looked at her and said, "No reason to be sorry. It's no problem. You have a nice evening, okay?" She looked surprised, but his kindness made her smile as she went along her way.
I hate to say it, but all I could think of was how Boyfriend would have snarled and glared, telling her through gritted teeth to go along her way. In his world, when someone screws up, they need to know they've screwed up, and feel stupid for screwing up. Unless the person is someone he finds interesting. That's a different problem altogether.
It made me sad to see the difference because it's how I've wanted Boyfriend to be for so long. I want him to just be nice, for himself and others. It feels good to be nice, you know? The thing is that he knows this. I've seen him have moments of kindness, times when he's helped those that others avoid. He knows what a difference a kindness makes, and also knows the damage an unkindness does. Yet, in the next moment, he can yell and gesture and make feel terrible. He's uneven that way.
Despite his vow to make himself "irreplaceable" to me, he hasn't carried through. I'm still as much the bearer of the brunt of his moods as I ever was. Maybe the contrast is so sharp in my mind because I went from my meeting to dropping by Boyfriend's for a moment. I was feeling good and thought it would be nice to talk to him. It wasn't a surprise -- he knew I might come by.
I could take it for only a few minutes. He stomped around and slammed things and yelled at the cats, for no real reason. He wasn't pissed about anything in particular. He just was in a(nother) mood, behaving badly, and making life unpleasant.
This should explain part of why I haven't brought up meeting my friend yet. If this is Boyfriend's baseline, I don't want to aggitate him. Yet.
As I said, I don't think there's a romatic thing happening with my friend. But he's inadvertently put a spotlight on things that stress and sadden me. I suppose I feel their absence when I'm not with Boyfriend. There's so much good between Boyfriend and I, but the not good is weighing on me.
More thinking....later.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Nice, warm, friendly....
Remember him? The one with the "nice, warm, friendly smile"? The one I bumped into at Target during the holidays? Well, he called. And called again. I didn't think he would, as I looked a fright when I saw him. Except for the hair, which was having a rare cooperative moment.
A little more back story: I met him in a writer's group when I was going through my divorce. I ended up dating this other guy in the group (HUGE mistake), who ended up making it difficult for me to attend the group. I'd bump inot the nice fella occasionally and he always had a hug for me, even though he always seemed to be with a girl. This time is different. He has some spectacular ideas for writing. Not stories, but how to keep the creativity going, how to solve plot problems, etc. He needs some help honing those ideas and help with his writing, and he thought of me.
We got together this evening over some cheap, fast Mexican food. On a chilly January night, that's a real treat. (Yeah, CHILLY! Finally!) We met to talk about some of those ideas he had. Dang, the man is overflowing with them. He's decided that between the two of us, we have enough know-how to make some money at sharing it with others. He just might be right. Lord knows he has enough enthusiasm for both of us, with a few gigawatts to spare!
In preparing for this get-together, I was saddened to realize I haven't written creatively in nearly 6 years. Hmmm...I've been with I-can't-decide-if-you're-enough boyfriend for just over 6 years. Co-inky dink? I'm beginning to wonder.
My friend and I didn't just talk shop. We shared some stories about friends and childhood. Learned more about each other. It was really nice. We'll meet again to talk more about our writing projects. I look forward to that! This is motivating me!
Here's the thing, though -- I didn't tell Boyfriend about this meeting. He's terribly jealous and knows that I'm still not sure that he can ever be loyal to just me. As I mentioned before, after the adult site debacle, I told him that I certainly do not feel like I'll ever be "enough" to him, but that I just can't give up on the dream of being that to someone.
Does that make me as bad as him, in keeping it from him? After all the crap I've endured, do I care? Oh, I'm sure I'll wind up telling him about this collaboration on the money-making idea. I'm not sure he'd understand the writing discussions or my need to have meaningful discussions on that subject. He pretty much assumes that any guy I talk to has "taken a fancy" to me. It's not the case, of course, but he assumes it.
I don't know if that's the case with my friend. I honestly don't care right now. I'm just so glad to feel motivated to write again!
A little more back story: I met him in a writer's group when I was going through my divorce. I ended up dating this other guy in the group (HUGE mistake), who ended up making it difficult for me to attend the group. I'd bump inot the nice fella occasionally and he always had a hug for me, even though he always seemed to be with a girl. This time is different. He has some spectacular ideas for writing. Not stories, but how to keep the creativity going, how to solve plot problems, etc. He needs some help honing those ideas and help with his writing, and he thought of me.
We got together this evening over some cheap, fast Mexican food. On a chilly January night, that's a real treat. (Yeah, CHILLY! Finally!) We met to talk about some of those ideas he had. Dang, the man is overflowing with them. He's decided that between the two of us, we have enough know-how to make some money at sharing it with others. He just might be right. Lord knows he has enough enthusiasm for both of us, with a few gigawatts to spare!
In preparing for this get-together, I was saddened to realize I haven't written creatively in nearly 6 years. Hmmm...I've been with I-can't-decide-if-you're-enough boyfriend for just over 6 years. Co-inky dink? I'm beginning to wonder.
My friend and I didn't just talk shop. We shared some stories about friends and childhood. Learned more about each other. It was really nice. We'll meet again to talk more about our writing projects. I look forward to that! This is motivating me!
Here's the thing, though -- I didn't tell Boyfriend about this meeting. He's terribly jealous and knows that I'm still not sure that he can ever be loyal to just me. As I mentioned before, after the adult site debacle, I told him that I certainly do not feel like I'll ever be "enough" to him, but that I just can't give up on the dream of being that to someone.
Does that make me as bad as him, in keeping it from him? After all the crap I've endured, do I care? Oh, I'm sure I'll wind up telling him about this collaboration on the money-making idea. I'm not sure he'd understand the writing discussions or my need to have meaningful discussions on that subject. He pretty much assumes that any guy I talk to has "taken a fancy" to me. It's not the case, of course, but he assumes it.
I don't know if that's the case with my friend. I honestly don't care right now. I'm just so glad to feel motivated to write again!
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow! Please?
I'm a winter kind of gal. I love the crisp air, fires in the fireplace, coats, scarves, gloves, boots, seeing your breath in the air, the low clouds that come before the snow...the whole shebang. The only thing I like about spring is rain and thunderstorms. I passionately hate summer. I endure it, then celebrate when the leaves come off the trees again.
All right, I saw that. Your eyes strayed over to that little blurb about me. You're thinking, "Uhm. You live in Texas. They don't have snow there." But we do! My part of this huge state is to the north, where we get snow during the deepest of winter months.
Or we used to. We'd actually have snow days when I was a kid! Snowball fights with the kids in the neighborhood, followed by hot cocoa in my living room where we'd relive the best pitches of the day. Oh, good times!
Two years ago, winter passed without any snow. Not a flake. What a depressing year! We had some snow a couple of months ago. Kinda freaky because it was so early. I took it as a good sign of the winter to come! Hooray! A real winter!
It'll be 75 degrees today.
80-some-odd days of dry weather.
I'm pissed.
I say nasty things to the weatherman on TV and the radio now. I don't wanna hear from them again until they have something nice to say. Preferably, with the word "precipitation" in it.
Nights are cold enough. Sun goes down, heater goes on. Mornings are lovely and chilly when I leave the house, but I have to turn on the air conditioner because it'll be roasty toasty in there by afternoon!
Maybe I need to move. Alaska. Canada. Washington state. I heard of a job opening in Illinois, but I'd like to move someplace that also looks better than here. They just have corn where we have cotton. Picky, picky.
The chill is starting to leave the air for the day today. I'll sip the last of my hot tea (Ginger and Mint - yum!) and put away the teapot for now. As Mrs. Rhett Butler declared, Tomorrow is another day!
All right, I saw that. Your eyes strayed over to that little blurb about me. You're thinking, "Uhm. You live in Texas. They don't have snow there." But we do! My part of this huge state is to the north, where we get snow during the deepest of winter months.
Or we used to. We'd actually have snow days when I was a kid! Snowball fights with the kids in the neighborhood, followed by hot cocoa in my living room where we'd relive the best pitches of the day. Oh, good times!
Two years ago, winter passed without any snow. Not a flake. What a depressing year! We had some snow a couple of months ago. Kinda freaky because it was so early. I took it as a good sign of the winter to come! Hooray! A real winter!
It'll be 75 degrees today.
80-some-odd days of dry weather.
I'm pissed.
I say nasty things to the weatherman on TV and the radio now. I don't wanna hear from them again until they have something nice to say. Preferably, with the word "precipitation" in it.
Nights are cold enough. Sun goes down, heater goes on. Mornings are lovely and chilly when I leave the house, but I have to turn on the air conditioner because it'll be roasty toasty in there by afternoon!
Maybe I need to move. Alaska. Canada. Washington state. I heard of a job opening in Illinois, but I'd like to move someplace that also looks better than here. They just have corn where we have cotton. Picky, picky.
The chill is starting to leave the air for the day today. I'll sip the last of my hot tea (Ginger and Mint - yum!) and put away the teapot for now. As Mrs. Rhett Butler declared, Tomorrow is another day!
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Woe is Me!!
Or I'm sure that's how he feels....
My son is a teenager. A young teenager. And he's mad at me.
He's too young to date. The girl pursuing him is even younger. And it's all so huge, so important to him. Oh, how I wish I could give him my perspective and have him believe it.
Dear boy, it's just not so huge, so important. It's really not. But I know it seems that way. it's what we call hormones.
We've talked about the rules and the reasons behind them for a long time. Now, he's testing them.
"So, can I have a friend who's a girl?"
"Sure, that's fine."
"So, can two 'friends' go to the movies together?"
"Ha! No, that's a date."
Tonight, it started as the classic challenge. "But everyone else does it!" He should know better. It's never worked before.
"So, can she come over here and watch a movie?"
We had a long talk about other struggles we've had lately. Priorities. Maturity. Commitments. Trust. No, she can't come over to watch a movie just yet. Not until you're handling those other things better. One step at a time. "It's not fair!" I know. He mentioned that a few times.
You're just not old enough to dive into the deep end of this, my dear child. You're not equipped to handle it. Neither of you are. I don't know that anyone is ever ready for this freight train, but I'm going to make sure you have a few more tools to handle it when you finally step onto those tracks.
I keep old pictures of him nearby to remind me that this moody teenager covers up the sweet little boy poking at logs with a stick, wearing his Osh Kosh overalls. Or the one waiting to board the steamboat at Disney World. Or the one I cheered with at the Ballpark on his surprise birthday trip not so long ago.
He's still in there, and it's all my job to see him through to adulthood. Safe and sound. So, be mad at me for now. It's okay. There are worse things.
My son is a teenager. A young teenager. And he's mad at me.
He's too young to date. The girl pursuing him is even younger. And it's all so huge, so important to him. Oh, how I wish I could give him my perspective and have him believe it.
Dear boy, it's just not so huge, so important. It's really not. But I know it seems that way. it's what we call hormones.
We've talked about the rules and the reasons behind them for a long time. Now, he's testing them.
"So, can I have a friend who's a girl?"
"Sure, that's fine."
"So, can two 'friends' go to the movies together?"
"Ha! No, that's a date."
Tonight, it started as the classic challenge. "But everyone else does it!" He should know better. It's never worked before.
"So, can she come over here and watch a movie?"
We had a long talk about other struggles we've had lately. Priorities. Maturity. Commitments. Trust. No, she can't come over to watch a movie just yet. Not until you're handling those other things better. One step at a time. "It's not fair!" I know. He mentioned that a few times.
You're just not old enough to dive into the deep end of this, my dear child. You're not equipped to handle it. Neither of you are. I don't know that anyone is ever ready for this freight train, but I'm going to make sure you have a few more tools to handle it when you finally step onto those tracks.
I keep old pictures of him nearby to remind me that this moody teenager covers up the sweet little boy poking at logs with a stick, wearing his Osh Kosh overalls. Or the one waiting to board the steamboat at Disney World. Or the one I cheered with at the Ballpark on his surprise birthday trip not so long ago.
He's still in there, and it's all my job to see him through to adulthood. Safe and sound. So, be mad at me for now. It's okay. There are worse things.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Scary, isn't it?
So, I'm online the other night and this guy sends me an intelligent IM. Those are so rare that I pay some attention to them. We get chatting and get this -- sex never comes up. He has a girlfriend and understands that I have a boyfriend, so it's not going any further. It's an interesting conversation, though. We talk a little about our backgrounds. We live in the same area. By the end of it, he gives me his first name. I give him the shortened version of my name that my friends call me. Good to meet ya, chat later. It was a nice way to pass the time.
I started thinking about my last blog and wondering just how much you can find out about a person with how little information. I ran a search of my first name and my location, since that's all my new friend has about me. A couple of legitimate things came up, but apparently enough people with my first name live here that it would be hard to determine which one is me. That nickname of mine is even more common, so that's no help. Good.
I wondered about my new friend. All I had was his first name and town, and a nickname he had in high school. He was careful with his info, which is good. Was he careful enough?
I Googled (I love proper names that become verbs!) his first name and location. From that only, I learned:
His last name.
His wife's name.
His children's names and ages. One child's exact birthdate.
His wife's parents' and grandparents' names.
When he and his wife were married, and his wife's maiden name.
That he wrote for his college newspaper.
That he can write a pretty intelligent Letter to the Editor.
The years that he attended Cal Farley's Boys Ranch.
His email address in 2002.
His wife had extradition proceedings against her last year.
His brother's name and the years that he attended Boys Ranch. Also, that his brother is in the military, recently in Iraq.
Most of that came from the pages found on Google. The marriage record was in a free public database. As harmless as it seems, the high school nickname actually confirmed that I had the right person. He used it as his email address when posting on a public message board in 2002.
The Boys Ranch thing clued me in that this guy might have a "colorful" past. So, I turned to a database that is not free, but to which anyone can subscribe for a modest fee. From that I learned:
About his criminal record from 1998-2004.
His middle name.
His birth date.
His address.
His driver's license number.
The fact that he's not a registered voter.
His wife's address, which is separate from his (I looked at this to try to confirm that they are divorced, as actual divorce records for that year are not accessible online).
The names of other adults living at the same address (I looked at this to try to confirm that he lives with his girlfriend, whose name I now know).
Now, if I were the stalking type, this fella could be in real trouble. I'm just someone who knows how to use Google and a couple of public records sites. What if he runs into a looney basket with the same skills? What kind of nightmare could happen?
And for nothing more than a friendly chat. He didn't even do anything particularly wrong.
For people meeting people online, this kind of information access is a beautiful thing. It keeps them from being hurt by someone like the guy with the "dead" wife. In this case, if this fella wanted to get closer, a woman is warned about his criminal history and what kind of crime he committed.
However, there's a flip side. That's the scary side. By giving seemingly innocent information, you can allow anyone to find you. Maybe even find your family. A first name, a town, and an old nickname. That's all I had.
Next time you cut someone off in traffic (accidentally or not), think about this. There's also a database where someone (for a small fee) can look up your license plate number, and find your name, address, and the former owner of your car....
A step away is the database where they plug in your name and get your address, description, driver's license number, and the names of other adults registered at your address...and all of their information, too.
The classic double-edged sword. Now, I have to wonder if there's any money in teaching people how to wield it for good? Or would I just feed those who would use it for evil?
I started thinking about my last blog and wondering just how much you can find out about a person with how little information. I ran a search of my first name and my location, since that's all my new friend has about me. A couple of legitimate things came up, but apparently enough people with my first name live here that it would be hard to determine which one is me. That nickname of mine is even more common, so that's no help. Good.
I wondered about my new friend. All I had was his first name and town, and a nickname he had in high school. He was careful with his info, which is good. Was he careful enough?
I Googled (I love proper names that become verbs!) his first name and location. From that only, I learned:
His last name.
His wife's name.
His children's names and ages. One child's exact birthdate.
His wife's parents' and grandparents' names.
When he and his wife were married, and his wife's maiden name.
That he wrote for his college newspaper.
That he can write a pretty intelligent Letter to the Editor.
The years that he attended Cal Farley's Boys Ranch.
His email address in 2002.
His wife had extradition proceedings against her last year.
His brother's name and the years that he attended Boys Ranch. Also, that his brother is in the military, recently in Iraq.
Most of that came from the pages found on Google. The marriage record was in a free public database. As harmless as it seems, the high school nickname actually confirmed that I had the right person. He used it as his email address when posting on a public message board in 2002.
The Boys Ranch thing clued me in that this guy might have a "colorful" past. So, I turned to a database that is not free, but to which anyone can subscribe for a modest fee. From that I learned:
About his criminal record from 1998-2004.
His middle name.
His birth date.
His address.
His driver's license number.
The fact that he's not a registered voter.
His wife's address, which is separate from his (I looked at this to try to confirm that they are divorced, as actual divorce records for that year are not accessible online).
The names of other adults living at the same address (I looked at this to try to confirm that he lives with his girlfriend, whose name I now know).
Now, if I were the stalking type, this fella could be in real trouble. I'm just someone who knows how to use Google and a couple of public records sites. What if he runs into a looney basket with the same skills? What kind of nightmare could happen?
And for nothing more than a friendly chat. He didn't even do anything particularly wrong.
For people meeting people online, this kind of information access is a beautiful thing. It keeps them from being hurt by someone like the guy with the "dead" wife. In this case, if this fella wanted to get closer, a woman is warned about his criminal history and what kind of crime he committed.
However, there's a flip side. That's the scary side. By giving seemingly innocent information, you can allow anyone to find you. Maybe even find your family. A first name, a town, and an old nickname. That's all I had.
Next time you cut someone off in traffic (accidentally or not), think about this. There's also a database where someone (for a small fee) can look up your license plate number, and find your name, address, and the former owner of your car....
A step away is the database where they plug in your name and get your address, description, driver's license number, and the names of other adults registered at your address...and all of their information, too.
The classic double-edged sword. Now, I have to wonder if there's any money in teaching people how to wield it for good? Or would I just feed those who would use it for evil?
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
"Ignore that man behind the curtain!" -- Oz
Something squirrely just happened and I had to share it, Dear Diary.
Flashback: Turn back the clock to April and May of this year. I started chatting with a guy who told me all about his lovely fiancee, who died just before they were to be married the year before. She was in a tragic car accident. He found me easy to talk to and sympathetic. Soon, he wanted to meet me.
I'm not so comfortable with that. I mean, hey, who are we online anyhow? I'm about to say something shocking: My name isn't really Blogget Jones. This guy wants to meet me, but all I have are words from him. Was there anything behind them?
The Internet blew the Information Age open wide, and I take full advantage of it. He revealed enough personal information about himself, and especially about her, for me to start searching.
Words of wisdom for anyone lying to anyone else. The truth is out there. Someone will find it.
I found his information quickly enough. No, he never gave me his last name, at least not consciously. It was in the file name of the pic he emailed me. His name, Brad, was short for Brady. He lived not far from me.
I didn't find any news stories about an accident involving someone with his fiancee's name. Those stories make front-page here. However, I did find their marriage record. She wasn't a fiancee. She was a wife.
And a very much alive wife. When he approached me again, I was armed to the teeth with facts. The truth is out there, butthead. He tried to say that they were married in a civil ceremony right before the accident. Nope, that's not true, fella. The conversation ended up something like this:
"So, you think I'm some kind of scumbag now?"
"Yes, that's about it. You said the woman was DEAD!"
"Well, if that's what you think then that's what you think."
"It's what I KNOW. And I know I deserve better than this. See ya."
That was in May. Almost exactly eight months later, I sign on to find this message:
"WOW!! you are still alive,,,long time no see"
The punctuation is all his, by the way. Interesting choice of words, yes? "you are still alive". So, I wondered if wifey's death record had hit the death index yet. Five minutes later, I learned that the dead woman came back from the grave and divorced him -- just two months ago.
I wrote him back and asked if he was still reeling-in women with the sob story, and if any of them had figured out the poor dead woman divorced him in November. No answer. Frankly, I'm shocked.
You know what gets me? That there really are women being duped by this guy, and others like him. The information is there, the warnings are there, but they don't find them, for whatever reason. I wish I could change that.
Flashback: Turn back the clock to April and May of this year. I started chatting with a guy who told me all about his lovely fiancee, who died just before they were to be married the year before. She was in a tragic car accident. He found me easy to talk to and sympathetic. Soon, he wanted to meet me.
I'm not so comfortable with that. I mean, hey, who are we online anyhow? I'm about to say something shocking: My name isn't really Blogget Jones. This guy wants to meet me, but all I have are words from him. Was there anything behind them?
The Internet blew the Information Age open wide, and I take full advantage of it. He revealed enough personal information about himself, and especially about her, for me to start searching.
Words of wisdom for anyone lying to anyone else. The truth is out there. Someone will find it.
I found his information quickly enough. No, he never gave me his last name, at least not consciously. It was in the file name of the pic he emailed me. His name, Brad, was short for Brady. He lived not far from me.
I didn't find any news stories about an accident involving someone with his fiancee's name. Those stories make front-page here. However, I did find their marriage record. She wasn't a fiancee. She was a wife.
And a very much alive wife. When he approached me again, I was armed to the teeth with facts. The truth is out there, butthead. He tried to say that they were married in a civil ceremony right before the accident. Nope, that's not true, fella. The conversation ended up something like this:
"So, you think I'm some kind of scumbag now?"
"Yes, that's about it. You said the woman was DEAD!"
"Well, if that's what you think then that's what you think."
"It's what I KNOW. And I know I deserve better than this. See ya."
That was in May. Almost exactly eight months later, I sign on to find this message:
"WOW!! you are still alive,,,long time no see"
The punctuation is all his, by the way. Interesting choice of words, yes? "you are still alive". So, I wondered if wifey's death record had hit the death index yet. Five minutes later, I learned that the dead woman came back from the grave and divorced him -- just two months ago.
I wrote him back and asked if he was still reeling-in women with the sob story, and if any of them had figured out the poor dead woman divorced him in November. No answer. Frankly, I'm shocked.
You know what gets me? That there really are women being duped by this guy, and others like him. The information is there, the warnings are there, but they don't find them, for whatever reason. I wish I could change that.
And now for something completely different
New Year's Resolutions.
Now, hold on! Before you start with the "that's not completely different!" thing, it is for me. I've never voiced solid resolutions, much less written them down. Not to mention, written them down publicly. (All right, so it's anonymous...let's not get bogged down in details!)
1. Lose weight
This is a common one, I know, but I really have to do this. I'm a diabetic with high cholestrol. It's time to not rely on the medications to control it because they aren't doing a bang-up job in the first place. And I'm so sick of taking them, and especially of paying for them! This leads me to....
2. Get a grip on my finances
I'm too old to live paycheck-to-paycheck. Heck, within ten years, I'll have two kids in college. That's something to think about. In twenty-five years, I'll be preparing for retirement. Maybe sooner, if I do things right, but I'll really have to get on the stick and (1) get ahead financially and (2) put lots of money away. Something that might help with that is....
3. Finish and submit my major writing projects
I have a short story that's really sellable, if I finish changes to the ending and get it submitted to good publications. I have both a novel and a children's book that are really sellable, if I finish the changes to them and get them submitted to good agents and/or publishers. I even have part of a sequel written for the novel. Now, I'm not just talking out of my you-know with these things. Both the story and the children's book have won small contests and the book was almost published by Bantam ten years ago. I even have the name of a New York agent who wants to read my stuff! I have minor article ideas that I need to write and see what comes of them. So, I have a shot at this, if I just get it done. Which brings me to....
4. Manage my time better
Well, maybe I could start with not blogging at work. Oops. However, I could get the kids in bed on time and then spend some time writing, instead of watching "Dog: The Bounty Hunter" incessantly. It's my private shame. I'm addicted to reality shows. "Dog," "The First 48," "The Surreal Life," "Breaking Bonaduce" (I know that spelling is wrong - sorry, Danny Boy), "The Apprentice," "Nanny 911" or "Supernanny"....the list goes on. Not to mention the crime shows, like "Cold Case Files" and "City Confidential." I'm a total dork, I swear. Time management need some serious attention. Speaking of attention, my house could use more of it, so....
5. Become a better housekeeper
This is important because I have two kids who need to know how to take care of their own home someday. Seriously, right now, I foresee spouses pulling their hair out and blaming me for the chaos. And they'd be right. I need to model the proper behavior and teach them. How's that, Dr. Phil? Maybe I should....
6. Learn to be organized
This includes not hanging onto useless things and bits of paper. I need to "Clean Sweep" the place! (Another reality show reference. Dang, this is gonna be hard.) Hey, here's an idea. Maybe the kids and I should each pick one area in our little domains per month that we're gonna clean out and reorganize. Hmmm....that might work, and it will all seem less formidable, too. Ah, I love inspiration!
7. Finish my miscellaneous projects
The winter cape I never finished sewing. The pillows I never taught my daughter to make. The vintage quilt chest I've been refinishing for a year-and-a-half. The mass of eBay stuff I need to post and sell (which could help with Resolution #2). They all need completing, and they need to be done NOW or I need to admit defeat and get rid of them.
Okay, that's all I have for now. Feels good to get that crap out of my head and into print. Dang, why didn't I do this before? Oh yeah, #4.
Now, hold on! Before you start with the "that's not completely different!" thing, it is for me. I've never voiced solid resolutions, much less written them down. Not to mention, written them down publicly. (All right, so it's anonymous...let's not get bogged down in details!)
1. Lose weight
This is a common one, I know, but I really have to do this. I'm a diabetic with high cholestrol. It's time to not rely on the medications to control it because they aren't doing a bang-up job in the first place. And I'm so sick of taking them, and especially of paying for them! This leads me to....
2. Get a grip on my finances
I'm too old to live paycheck-to-paycheck. Heck, within ten years, I'll have two kids in college. That's something to think about. In twenty-five years, I'll be preparing for retirement. Maybe sooner, if I do things right, but I'll really have to get on the stick and (1) get ahead financially and (2) put lots of money away. Something that might help with that is....
3. Finish and submit my major writing projects
I have a short story that's really sellable, if I finish changes to the ending and get it submitted to good publications. I have both a novel and a children's book that are really sellable, if I finish the changes to them and get them submitted to good agents and/or publishers. I even have part of a sequel written for the novel. Now, I'm not just talking out of my you-know with these things. Both the story and the children's book have won small contests and the book was almost published by Bantam ten years ago. I even have the name of a New York agent who wants to read my stuff! I have minor article ideas that I need to write and see what comes of them. So, I have a shot at this, if I just get it done. Which brings me to....
4. Manage my time better
Well, maybe I could start with not blogging at work. Oops. However, I could get the kids in bed on time and then spend some time writing, instead of watching "Dog: The Bounty Hunter" incessantly. It's my private shame. I'm addicted to reality shows. "Dog," "The First 48," "The Surreal Life," "Breaking Bonaduce" (I know that spelling is wrong - sorry, Danny Boy), "The Apprentice," "Nanny 911" or "Supernanny"....the list goes on. Not to mention the crime shows, like "Cold Case Files" and "City Confidential." I'm a total dork, I swear. Time management need some serious attention. Speaking of attention, my house could use more of it, so....
5. Become a better housekeeper
This is important because I have two kids who need to know how to take care of their own home someday. Seriously, right now, I foresee spouses pulling their hair out and blaming me for the chaos. And they'd be right. I need to model the proper behavior and teach them. How's that, Dr. Phil? Maybe I should....
6. Learn to be organized
This includes not hanging onto useless things and bits of paper. I need to "Clean Sweep" the place! (Another reality show reference. Dang, this is gonna be hard.) Hey, here's an idea. Maybe the kids and I should each pick one area in our little domains per month that we're gonna clean out and reorganize. Hmmm....that might work, and it will all seem less formidable, too. Ah, I love inspiration!
7. Finish my miscellaneous projects
The winter cape I never finished sewing. The pillows I never taught my daughter to make. The vintage quilt chest I've been refinishing for a year-and-a-half. The mass of eBay stuff I need to post and sell (which could help with Resolution #2). They all need completing, and they need to be done NOW or I need to admit defeat and get rid of them.
Okay, that's all I have for now. Feels good to get that crap out of my head and into print. Dang, why didn't I do this before? Oh yeah, #4.
Monday, January 02, 2006
WTF?
I just gotta know. Maybe some guys out there can shed some light on this for me. What exactly is it about the Internet that makes some men decide vulgarity is the way to a girl's heart?
Hmmm. I suppose it's not really her heart he's after, though, with all that rubbish. Is it?
"Hey, you're from Lubbock. Me, too. Wanna fuck?"
"I like your hair, baby. Wanna fuck?"
"Hi. 26m single. U look hot. Wanna fuck a younger guy?"
or the ever charming - "You got a good rack. Fill out that top nice. Wanna fuck?"
I'm not making this stuff up. These are quotes. Some are more subtle, if you can use that term with these fellas.
"Hello."
"Hi."
"How are you."
"Fine. And you?"
"I'm good. You're in Lubbock?"
"Yes, I am. You, too?"
"Yes. I saw your pic. Very nice, if you don't mind me saying."
"Well, thank you. That's sweet of you to say."
"Your welcome." (They hardly ever get that word right.) "So, what do you do for fun?"
Let's go to the IM dictionary: "fun" equals "sex." Now, we're getting to what he really wants.
"Movies, music. The usual."
"Want to go out with me some time? I'm a good fuck." And there you have it folks!
I have to know -- are there really girls out there who respond to this? Are they really stupid enough to say, "Yeah! Sure! I'm a good fuck, too!" Or maybe it's just some series of grunts that these cavemen at her virtual door understand.
Words of wisdom for men dealing with intelligent women online:
Seriously, 9 of 10 messages I receive from men online are like this. I'm so relieved to talk to the tenth one, the guy with a brain placed between his ears and not his legs, that I can't wait to talk to him again. But he seems to be an endangered species, and that quite frankly panics me.
(Note: I know women can be just as bad. I just haven't heard from as many of them.)
I find it disheartening, especially when I realize I'm considered naive for wanting something more from online conversations. I want discourse, not intercourse!
Here's a good rule of thumb, in my humble opinion: If you can't say it to her in person without getting slapped, then don't say it online. Seems a little cowardly, too, doesn't it? Hiding behind a computer so that she can't throw a drink in your face for being crude, rude, and socially unacceptable. Ooooo. My hero.
It takes a real man, of intelligence, to rock my world -- then I'll rock his.
Whatever happened to grace, charm, and plain ol' respect? Why does the Internet make people forget it?
Hmmm. I suppose it's not really her heart he's after, though, with all that rubbish. Is it?
"Hey, you're from Lubbock. Me, too. Wanna fuck?"
"I like your hair, baby. Wanna fuck?"
"Hi. 26m single. U look hot. Wanna fuck a younger guy?"
or the ever charming - "You got a good rack. Fill out that top nice. Wanna fuck?"
I'm not making this stuff up. These are quotes. Some are more subtle, if you can use that term with these fellas.
"Hello."
"Hi."
"How are you."
"Fine. And you?"
"I'm good. You're in Lubbock?"
"Yes, I am. You, too?"
"Yes. I saw your pic. Very nice, if you don't mind me saying."
"Well, thank you. That's sweet of you to say."
"Your welcome." (They hardly ever get that word right.) "So, what do you do for fun?"
Let's go to the IM dictionary: "fun" equals "sex." Now, we're getting to what he really wants.
"Movies, music. The usual."
"Want to go out with me some time? I'm a good fuck." And there you have it folks!
I have to know -- are there really girls out there who respond to this? Are they really stupid enough to say, "Yeah! Sure! I'm a good fuck, too!" Or maybe it's just some series of grunts that these cavemen at her virtual door understand.
Words of wisdom for men dealing with intelligent women online:
- We are not impressed with abbreviations like "how r u" and spellings like "kewl". Tell me "CUL8R" and no, you won't. Ever.
- We are not interested in pictures of your crotch. If you say, "Here's a pic of me," it better be your face.
- We are not your sweetheart, baby, honey, darlin', or even sweetie. You don't even know me! I could really be that 600-pound man down the street who hasn't left his chair for any reason in the last ten years. (Say, "Ew.")
Seriously, 9 of 10 messages I receive from men online are like this. I'm so relieved to talk to the tenth one, the guy with a brain placed between his ears and not his legs, that I can't wait to talk to him again. But he seems to be an endangered species, and that quite frankly panics me.
(Note: I know women can be just as bad. I just haven't heard from as many of them.)
I find it disheartening, especially when I realize I'm considered naive for wanting something more from online conversations. I want discourse, not intercourse!
Here's a good rule of thumb, in my humble opinion: If you can't say it to her in person without getting slapped, then don't say it online. Seems a little cowardly, too, doesn't it? Hiding behind a computer so that she can't throw a drink in your face for being crude, rude, and socially unacceptable. Ooooo. My hero.
It takes a real man, of intelligence, to rock my world -- then I'll rock his.
Whatever happened to grace, charm, and plain ol' respect? Why does the Internet make people forget it?
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Squishy sand and cold concrete
I have a friend who has a sister. She's married to an immigrant whose legal stay here long since expired. For years, he has used the excuse of "This is how it's done in MY culture" as an excuse for his bad behavior. She cooks, cleans, takes care of the children. Then, she does the same for his dozens of "family" who come to their home. They come, without her prior knowledge or permission. They speak another language in front of her, and laugh at her for not knowing what they said. He disappears for days, spends all their money, doesn't hold a job, and says she has no right to ask what happened because it's his "culture."
One day, a "cousin" came to stay, with a little baby. She believed him. Then, the "cousin" was pregnant again. Then another came to stay, also with a baby. Guess what? They weren't cousins. I know -- you're as shocked as I was. (with a resounding "Duh.")
So, here's the shocking part. He says he won't share their bedroom with her anymore, and moves the first girlfriend in there. And she lets him. She and her daughter sleep on the couch.
Yep, daughter. The child is growing up thinking this is normal. Good modeling for her own married life someday.
With enough pressure, she leaves. Her father has the scum evicted from the house. (Did I mention it was her FATHER'S house?!) She gets the house back and she lives in peace with her child. The scumbag moves in with the girlfriend, but the wife doesn't know where.
She won't divorce him. Why? "Because I might not ever get married again." All together now: "WTF?!?!"
He's with someone else. Having babies. He rarely contacts her, and that's to see their child. She's alone. But that's a marriage. She doesn't want to give that up, for the chance that she might NOT be alone the rest of her life.
I know another woman, married to a military man. When he's sent elsewhere, he doesn't contact her often, he spends money like it's water, and other women give him expensive gifts. When he finally gets home, you'd think he'd be one of those guys on the tarmac, hugging the daylights out of his kids and wife. He's not. He won't speak to them for a week or more because he's "adjusting." Now, he spends his time at home playing online (games, allegedly) and sleeping.
He doesn't give gifts to his wife. No Mother's Day. No Birthday. No Anniversary. And this year, no Christmas. No spontaneous "I love you."
They left town for the holidays. Suddenly, he's going and doing. Smells like a whole tank of fishy, methinks.
I have to wonder, why do they put up with it? Where is the breaking point for these women? The latter is starting to say, "How do I raise my kids to know this isn't how a husband and father behaves?" So, maybe the kids are her line in the sand. It was that way with me.
For the former, when does he step far enough for that emotional band to snap? He's stretched it far enough for even Dr. Laura to tell this woman to grab her child and cut this man from her life, at all costs.
Not that I should dare to point fingers. I'm fully aware of my failings in this arena. I keep erasing my line in the sand and drawing a new one. What am I afraid of? Contemplating that answer makes my innards feel squishy. I hate feeling squishy. It's not solid. It's not stable. It's downright uncomfortable. Much like sand.
But concrete is cold, hard, unyielding. When do we decide to pour the concrete and draw that line?
One day, a "cousin" came to stay, with a little baby. She believed him. Then, the "cousin" was pregnant again. Then another came to stay, also with a baby. Guess what? They weren't cousins. I know -- you're as shocked as I was. (with a resounding "Duh.")
So, here's the shocking part. He says he won't share their bedroom with her anymore, and moves the first girlfriend in there. And she lets him. She and her daughter sleep on the couch.
Yep, daughter. The child is growing up thinking this is normal. Good modeling for her own married life someday.
With enough pressure, she leaves. Her father has the scum evicted from the house. (Did I mention it was her FATHER'S house?!) She gets the house back and she lives in peace with her child. The scumbag moves in with the girlfriend, but the wife doesn't know where.
She won't divorce him. Why? "Because I might not ever get married again." All together now: "WTF?!?!"
He's with someone else. Having babies. He rarely contacts her, and that's to see their child. She's alone. But that's a marriage. She doesn't want to give that up, for the chance that she might NOT be alone the rest of her life.
I know another woman, married to a military man. When he's sent elsewhere, he doesn't contact her often, he spends money like it's water, and other women give him expensive gifts. When he finally gets home, you'd think he'd be one of those guys on the tarmac, hugging the daylights out of his kids and wife. He's not. He won't speak to them for a week or more because he's "adjusting." Now, he spends his time at home playing online (games, allegedly) and sleeping.
He doesn't give gifts to his wife. No Mother's Day. No Birthday. No Anniversary. And this year, no Christmas. No spontaneous "I love you."
They left town for the holidays. Suddenly, he's going and doing. Smells like a whole tank of fishy, methinks.
I have to wonder, why do they put up with it? Where is the breaking point for these women? The latter is starting to say, "How do I raise my kids to know this isn't how a husband and father behaves?" So, maybe the kids are her line in the sand. It was that way with me.
For the former, when does he step far enough for that emotional band to snap? He's stretched it far enough for even Dr. Laura to tell this woman to grab her child and cut this man from her life, at all costs.
Not that I should dare to point fingers. I'm fully aware of my failings in this arena. I keep erasing my line in the sand and drawing a new one. What am I afraid of? Contemplating that answer makes my innards feel squishy. I hate feeling squishy. It's not solid. It's not stable. It's downright uncomfortable. Much like sand.
But concrete is cold, hard, unyielding. When do we decide to pour the concrete and draw that line?
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Humping reindeer and silly romantics
For the third year in a row, some demented little soul out there thinks it's knee-slappin' hysterical to put our decorative Christmas reindeer in compromising positions.
Okay, I have to admit laughing the first time I pulled into the driveway and witnessed the reindeer and their unabashed passion on display for the whole neighborhood. Get a room...er, stall, you two.
However, when their antics actually busted one of the reindeer, it quit being funny. And when I pulled up and actually caught them in the act, it quit being funny. The car I saw matched that of a horrible (more accurately, whore-able) woman who vehemently hates a member of my family. She didn't dare to come back again last year.
She came back tonight. Christmas Eve Eve. We have a new reindeer and I don't want it broken, too. She got caught again, though. My dad saw her and the car is different, but the person is the same. He scared her off.
All I have to say is, how old are we??
---------------------------------------
I just finished watching "Little Women." The old one with June Allison and Elizabeth Taylor. Jo was so right -- the brainiac Professor is soooo much better than the silly boy. The ending scene always gets me....
Rain pouring down on the two huddled under the umbrella. It soaks into her dress, drips from his coat.
"I have nothing to offer, but these empty hands."
She grasps his outstretched hand with her own. "They're not empty anymore."
Gets me. Every. Single. Time.
Now, there's a sweet, World-War-II-propoganda-filled oldie on, with Claudette Colbert. (Does anyone remember her anymore? Besides me?) Anyhow, I'll probably watch it, too. I adore those drippy films.
So, I'm spending the wee hours of my Christmas Eve with sweet old movies instead of sleeping. Why? Because I'm listening for reindeer pornographers sneaking around my front yard.
Okay, I have to admit laughing the first time I pulled into the driveway and witnessed the reindeer and their unabashed passion on display for the whole neighborhood. Get a room...er, stall, you two.
However, when their antics actually busted one of the reindeer, it quit being funny. And when I pulled up and actually caught them in the act, it quit being funny. The car I saw matched that of a horrible (more accurately, whore-able) woman who vehemently hates a member of my family. She didn't dare to come back again last year.
She came back tonight. Christmas Eve Eve. We have a new reindeer and I don't want it broken, too. She got caught again, though. My dad saw her and the car is different, but the person is the same. He scared her off.
All I have to say is, how old are we??
---------------------------------------
I just finished watching "Little Women." The old one with June Allison and Elizabeth Taylor. Jo was so right -- the brainiac Professor is soooo much better than the silly boy. The ending scene always gets me....
Rain pouring down on the two huddled under the umbrella. It soaks into her dress, drips from his coat.
"I have nothing to offer, but these empty hands."
She grasps his outstretched hand with her own. "They're not empty anymore."
Gets me. Every. Single. Time.
Now, there's a sweet, World-War-II-propoganda-filled oldie on, with Claudette Colbert. (Does anyone remember her anymore? Besides me?) Anyhow, I'll probably watch it, too. I adore those drippy films.
So, I'm spending the wee hours of my Christmas Eve with sweet old movies instead of sleeping. Why? Because I'm listening for reindeer pornographers sneaking around my front yard.
Friday, December 23, 2005
Whoever wrote "Suicide is Painless" is stupid
(Does anyone even know that song anymore? Or know where it comes from?)
I'm a closet Indianapolis Colts fan. Boyfriend is a big fan, so I've watched them for a few years. This year, they are spectacular. I've learned what a huddle-less offense is and it seems bad-ass. I hope they go all the way, but shhhh....don't say that too loud or I'll jinx 'em!
In case the news hasn't reached you, the Colts' head coach Tony Dungy has an 18-year-old son who decided to kill himself yesterday. Here's the Fox Sports article.
Before I total taint any positive image you might have of me and launch into my rant, here's my disclaimer: I am not insensitive. I am not unsympathetic. I feel absolutely horrible for Tony Dungy and his family. This is a hurt that will never go away. Time will dull the shock, but they will always miss that boy and wish he was there for the milestones in life, theirs and his. They will always second guess themselves and carry the guilt. They will always, like it or not, have a bit of anger towards him for doing it to them. I feel so terribly sad for anyone going through such a horror, especially when they are mourning their child.
I even feel a bad for the boy. No one in their right mind takes their own life. I firmly believe that. Things just get all screwed up and you can't think straight, I know. That said, I'm totally pissed at that kid. I don't tolerate selfishness well, and this is one of the most insanely selfish things I've ever heard.
The Colts lead the NFL at 13-1, with only two more games in the regular season. 2005 should have been the year in Tony Dungy's history when he led an NFL team to a near-perfect season. He should be enjoying the pinnacle of his career.
Instead, it's the year his son died. Not only died, but killed himself. And just three days before Christmas. How very sad. Not only has the man lost his child, but he can't even enjoy what should have been his best year yet. That boy took everything away from that man. Merry Christmas, Dad.
Alrighty, then. I can feel the vibes from here. Dang, Blogget, you're a cold one. The poor kid probably didn't have his dad's attention and was in desperate need. Even if that is the case, you don't take your own life. You don't destroy your life and the lives of those around you just because you're having a hard time. It's not fair.
On the other hand, it's not my place to be mad at that kid. He didn't inflict hurt upon me. Unfortunately, he's opened old wounds. I hear about the reactions of people hearing about his death, and it comes back to me.
"Julie is dead. She shot herself."
Julie was my cousin. Well, she still is. She's just not where I can tell her about my kids or go to her wedding or hear about her kids. We grew up together. Matching dresses on Easter and Christmas and the lot. She got into a messed up world and I guess saw no other way out.
But there was another way. She had a family who loved her and would help her. She didn't have to choose the way she did. I'm still a little mad at her for doing that to us all. It's surreal to see her name on a headstone, beside my great-grandparents and grandparents. It's just not the way it was supposed to be.
I don't know how her mother was able to clean out her apartment afterwards. I couldn't have faced it all, being within the walls where my child lived, fell apart, and died. Now, I'm reading about another family who has to do the same thing.
Suicide is not painless. It's an act that leaves immeasureable damage in it's wake. It causes a pain that runs deeper than any comfort can reach. I'm profoundly sorry for anyone who has to join the unfortunate fraternity of those who suffer through that pain.
I'm a closet Indianapolis Colts fan. Boyfriend is a big fan, so I've watched them for a few years. This year, they are spectacular. I've learned what a huddle-less offense is and it seems bad-ass. I hope they go all the way, but shhhh....don't say that too loud or I'll jinx 'em!
In case the news hasn't reached you, the Colts' head coach Tony Dungy has an 18-year-old son who decided to kill himself yesterday. Here's the Fox Sports article.
Before I total taint any positive image you might have of me and launch into my rant, here's my disclaimer: I am not insensitive. I am not unsympathetic. I feel absolutely horrible for Tony Dungy and his family. This is a hurt that will never go away. Time will dull the shock, but they will always miss that boy and wish he was there for the milestones in life, theirs and his. They will always second guess themselves and carry the guilt. They will always, like it or not, have a bit of anger towards him for doing it to them. I feel so terribly sad for anyone going through such a horror, especially when they are mourning their child.
I even feel a bad for the boy. No one in their right mind takes their own life. I firmly believe that. Things just get all screwed up and you can't think straight, I know. That said, I'm totally pissed at that kid. I don't tolerate selfishness well, and this is one of the most insanely selfish things I've ever heard.
The Colts lead the NFL at 13-1, with only two more games in the regular season. 2005 should have been the year in Tony Dungy's history when he led an NFL team to a near-perfect season. He should be enjoying the pinnacle of his career.
Instead, it's the year his son died. Not only died, but killed himself. And just three days before Christmas. How very sad. Not only has the man lost his child, but he can't even enjoy what should have been his best year yet. That boy took everything away from that man. Merry Christmas, Dad.
Alrighty, then. I can feel the vibes from here. Dang, Blogget, you're a cold one. The poor kid probably didn't have his dad's attention and was in desperate need. Even if that is the case, you don't take your own life. You don't destroy your life and the lives of those around you just because you're having a hard time. It's not fair.
On the other hand, it's not my place to be mad at that kid. He didn't inflict hurt upon me. Unfortunately, he's opened old wounds. I hear about the reactions of people hearing about his death, and it comes back to me.
"Julie is dead. She shot herself."
Julie was my cousin. Well, she still is. She's just not where I can tell her about my kids or go to her wedding or hear about her kids. We grew up together. Matching dresses on Easter and Christmas and the lot. She got into a messed up world and I guess saw no other way out.
But there was another way. She had a family who loved her and would help her. She didn't have to choose the way she did. I'm still a little mad at her for doing that to us all. It's surreal to see her name on a headstone, beside my great-grandparents and grandparents. It's just not the way it was supposed to be.
I don't know how her mother was able to clean out her apartment afterwards. I couldn't have faced it all, being within the walls where my child lived, fell apart, and died. Now, I'm reading about another family who has to do the same thing.
Suicide is not painless. It's an act that leaves immeasureable damage in it's wake. It causes a pain that runs deeper than any comfort can reach. I'm profoundly sorry for anyone who has to join the unfortunate fraternity of those who suffer through that pain.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Another sing along! "All I want for Christmas is...."
A puppy.
No really, I do! This isn't one of those, "Oh, they're so cute! Can I have one? Please! Please!" and then you don't know what work it is to actually take care of her/him. This is my honest-to-gosh, heartfelt, all-I-really-want-for-Christmas-besides-world-peace wish.
I know it won't come true because the others in my house don't want that, but my heart breaks for want of a dog.
I've never been without a dog. We had a Border Collie when I was born. Cocker Spaniels when I was growing up. As an adult, I've had a Great Dane/Doberman, an identifiable mutt, a Lhasa Apso, a Border Collie, a Cocker Spaniel, and a Labrador Retriever.
And then there was one. She out-lived them all, but had to leave this earth a few months ago. Life just got too dangerous and painful for her. I know, I know...I've heard it a million times..."You did the right thing." Okay. I still miss her each and every day, when I get home and she's not there to greet me.
She's visited me since then and given me comfort. Yeah, I believe in spirits, or "ghosts" if you prefer. I have too many stories that affirm that to be able to tell them all here. Maybe I'll make another blog about that and absolutely never get my work done! Ha!
The point is that I love dogs. I love MY dogs, especially. I've never been without one and I miss having that companionship in my life. There's an unconditional validation they give to your existence, even on the darkest days. I miss my dog terribly and want desperately to love another.
So, yes, I really do want a puppy. Cold nose, soft ears, warm heart. Ah well. Maybe Santa will find one for me next year.
--------
Sidebar: Boyfriend explained himself about the neighbor comment. He didn't mean the guy is easier to talk to, just that he doesn't pay any attention when Boyfriend is in a bad mood. He just doesn't care that much -- which is why he's not a better choice to talk to.
Oh, and I was talking with my recently-divorced-for-the-second-time ex-husband last night. We were making arrangements for the kids' Christmas Eve. The conversation took a sudden twist and next thing I knew, he's telling me how this friend of his feels that he (the ex, not the friend) belongs with me, that I'm his first and only love. How do you tell a person "been there, done that, and never ever wanna do it again" when they are the "there," "that," and "it"? I mean, other than divorcing them. I would have thought it was a clear enough message.
Ah well. I'll handle it.
No really, I do! This isn't one of those, "Oh, they're so cute! Can I have one? Please! Please!" and then you don't know what work it is to actually take care of her/him. This is my honest-to-gosh, heartfelt, all-I-really-want-for-Christmas-besides-world-peace wish.
I know it won't come true because the others in my house don't want that, but my heart breaks for want of a dog.
I've never been without a dog. We had a Border Collie when I was born. Cocker Spaniels when I was growing up. As an adult, I've had a Great Dane/Doberman, an identifiable mutt, a Lhasa Apso, a Border Collie, a Cocker Spaniel, and a Labrador Retriever.
And then there was one. She out-lived them all, but had to leave this earth a few months ago. Life just got too dangerous and painful for her. I know, I know...I've heard it a million times..."You did the right thing." Okay. I still miss her each and every day, when I get home and she's not there to greet me.
She's visited me since then and given me comfort. Yeah, I believe in spirits, or "ghosts" if you prefer. I have too many stories that affirm that to be able to tell them all here. Maybe I'll make another blog about that and absolutely never get my work done! Ha!
The point is that I love dogs. I love MY dogs, especially. I've never been without one and I miss having that companionship in my life. There's an unconditional validation they give to your existence, even on the darkest days. I miss my dog terribly and want desperately to love another.
So, yes, I really do want a puppy. Cold nose, soft ears, warm heart. Ah well. Maybe Santa will find one for me next year.
--------
Sidebar: Boyfriend explained himself about the neighbor comment. He didn't mean the guy is easier to talk to, just that he doesn't pay any attention when Boyfriend is in a bad mood. He just doesn't care that much -- which is why he's not a better choice to talk to.
Oh, and I was talking with my recently-divorced-for-the-second-time ex-husband last night. We were making arrangements for the kids' Christmas Eve. The conversation took a sudden twist and next thing I knew, he's telling me how this friend of his feels that he (the ex, not the friend) belongs with me, that I'm his first and only love. How do you tell a person "been there, done that, and never ever wanna do it again" when they are the "there," "that," and "it"? I mean, other than divorcing them. I would have thought it was a clear enough message.
Ah well. I'll handle it.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Hmpf
Let's check the clock, shall we?
Boyfriend declared he was turning over a new leaf at about 3:00 Sunday afternoon. Then, he called about 10:00 last night. By 10:30, I'd had enough and hung up on him. It took about 55 hours for him to be rotten and snotty to me. I don't tolerate being treated like an idiot. I get absolutely effing furious. You'd think after having known me for over six years, ge'd grab a clue about that, too.
So, what was his problem, you might wonder? He has a lot to do today and he has to leave town on Christmas Eve. So, instead of creating a "To Do" list like a reasonable person, he calls me, lists it all, gets stressed out, and takes it out on me. I'm sure it made him feel so much more in control to make me feel like an idiot, with his "Uhm, yeah, I know" and "Of course." Or rather, to try to make me feel like an idiot. All it did was make me mad.
And sad. I really believed the new leaf was being turned. That really was stupid of me.
It goes deeper than the rotten tone he had, though. For reasons too ridiculous to waste the typing on, we get to talk for only a few minutes each evening. It's supposed to be a time to touch base, see how our days went, and share news. Last night, he wanted to spend that time listing his errands and being awful to me. He never asked, never cared what happened in my day. List, list, list, rude, rude, rude, goodnight, bye.
And I had news last night. I was excited to share it with him and discuss it. I was looking forward to that give and take. As it turned out, all he wanted was a verbal punching bag.
Right before my phone battery gave out, he apologized and started comparing talking to me to talking to his neighbor friend. Then go talk to your neighbor, bud. I've met him. You two can be rude to each other all night. Delightful.
Boyfriend declared he was turning over a new leaf at about 3:00 Sunday afternoon. Then, he called about 10:00 last night. By 10:30, I'd had enough and hung up on him. It took about 55 hours for him to be rotten and snotty to me. I don't tolerate being treated like an idiot. I get absolutely effing furious. You'd think after having known me for over six years, ge'd grab a clue about that, too.
So, what was his problem, you might wonder? He has a lot to do today and he has to leave town on Christmas Eve. So, instead of creating a "To Do" list like a reasonable person, he calls me, lists it all, gets stressed out, and takes it out on me. I'm sure it made him feel so much more in control to make me feel like an idiot, with his "Uhm, yeah, I know" and "Of course." Or rather, to try to make me feel like an idiot. All it did was make me mad.
And sad. I really believed the new leaf was being turned. That really was stupid of me.
It goes deeper than the rotten tone he had, though. For reasons too ridiculous to waste the typing on, we get to talk for only a few minutes each evening. It's supposed to be a time to touch base, see how our days went, and share news. Last night, he wanted to spend that time listing his errands and being awful to me. He never asked, never cared what happened in my day. List, list, list, rude, rude, rude, goodnight, bye.
And I had news last night. I was excited to share it with him and discuss it. I was looking forward to that give and take. As it turned out, all he wanted was a verbal punching bag.
Right before my phone battery gave out, he apologized and started comparing talking to me to talking to his neighbor friend. Then go talk to your neighbor, bud. I've met him. You two can be rude to each other all night. Delightful.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
What Do Teachers Teach?
I promise, this is not another rant about how ignorant some teachers seem to be. I'm just wondering....
Why do some teachers decide to teach?
That old saying, "Those who can, do, and those who can't, teach," doesn't hold true these days. Getting into teaching isn't easy. It's at least four years of college, plus your requirements for certification. I once looked into getting my teacher certification. It was going to take as much time as a Master's degree, so I went for the Master's instead.
And it doesn't pay the big bucks, so that's not a draw.
Some people just love kids, I'm sure. They love being with them and watching them learn. They care about quality assignments that spark higher order thinking. They are the ones you see getting awards from Disney and such. They see a kid struggling, they help. They gladly work with the parents, too, and get them involved in improving their child's education. Those are the ones who have a place in their hearts for "their" kids. Year after year, those kids come back to hug them and say "Thanks for making a difference."
Those are the ones who made the right career choice. Those are not the ones in the majority of schools where the majority of our kids are.
Or so I'm convinced.
Take this lovely piece of crap I'm dealing with right now, by way of a fine example. She has a 10-year-old student who slipped from A/B grades to C/D grades within three weeks. Three weeks. Three. Fifteen school days. At the beginning of the school year, she made sure the parents knew how much she looooved having their children in her class. "Ah believe in communication," she twanged. "Ah always keep mah parents informed."
Hooey.
This child's parents were shocked to see the three-week progress report. They worried and talked to the teacher about the change in their child. They worried and worked out a plan for getting work done to improve this child's grades and attitude. "Ah'll get that raht to you," twanged the teacher.
The progress report went home thirteen school days ago. The semester ends tomorrow. No work has gone home. The child's mother has all but begged that teacher to send home the work, to acknowledge their conversation in some way. She gets nothing.
I don't mean she got an answer to her messages that she didn't like. I mean the poor woman and her child are out in the cold. No response. Nothing. Like they don't exist.
The mother has even contacted the principal. Still nothing, and what's to be done?
I don't know, but I worry for that child. She's fully aware of her teacher's indifference. She's aware of the principal's indifference.
Not that he was a pillar of sensitivity in the first place. He's heard me holler often enough about his foolishly planned school activities, that inevitably alienate some of the kids. Things like "Twin Day" where they must pair up and dress just like their best friend. Or the 50s Day "Poodle Parade" where you must be wearing a poodle skirt to participate. Or a special assembly for kids who haven't been tardy -- as though getting their siblings ready and driving the car to school is in their control.
Nonetheless, she's aware. And sad. No one likes to feel that they aren't liked.
So, I have to wonder, why did this woman and that man get into teaching? Not for the kids' sakes. And I also have to wonder something more bothersome -- what have they taught this particular child?
Why do some teachers decide to teach?
That old saying, "Those who can, do, and those who can't, teach," doesn't hold true these days. Getting into teaching isn't easy. It's at least four years of college, plus your requirements for certification. I once looked into getting my teacher certification. It was going to take as much time as a Master's degree, so I went for the Master's instead.
And it doesn't pay the big bucks, so that's not a draw.
Some people just love kids, I'm sure. They love being with them and watching them learn. They care about quality assignments that spark higher order thinking. They are the ones you see getting awards from Disney and such. They see a kid struggling, they help. They gladly work with the parents, too, and get them involved in improving their child's education. Those are the ones who have a place in their hearts for "their" kids. Year after year, those kids come back to hug them and say "Thanks for making a difference."
Those are the ones who made the right career choice. Those are not the ones in the majority of schools where the majority of our kids are.
Or so I'm convinced.
Take this lovely piece of crap I'm dealing with right now, by way of a fine example. She has a 10-year-old student who slipped from A/B grades to C/D grades within three weeks. Three weeks. Three. Fifteen school days. At the beginning of the school year, she made sure the parents knew how much she looooved having their children in her class. "Ah believe in communication," she twanged. "Ah always keep mah parents informed."
Hooey.
This child's parents were shocked to see the three-week progress report. They worried and talked to the teacher about the change in their child. They worried and worked out a plan for getting work done to improve this child's grades and attitude. "Ah'll get that raht to you," twanged the teacher.
The progress report went home thirteen school days ago. The semester ends tomorrow. No work has gone home. The child's mother has all but begged that teacher to send home the work, to acknowledge their conversation in some way. She gets nothing.
I don't mean she got an answer to her messages that she didn't like. I mean the poor woman and her child are out in the cold. No response. Nothing. Like they don't exist.
The mother has even contacted the principal. Still nothing, and what's to be done?
I don't know, but I worry for that child. She's fully aware of her teacher's indifference. She's aware of the principal's indifference.
Not that he was a pillar of sensitivity in the first place. He's heard me holler often enough about his foolishly planned school activities, that inevitably alienate some of the kids. Things like "Twin Day" where they must pair up and dress just like their best friend. Or the 50s Day "Poodle Parade" where you must be wearing a poodle skirt to participate. Or a special assembly for kids who haven't been tardy -- as though getting their siblings ready and driving the car to school is in their control.
Nonetheless, she's aware. And sad. No one likes to feel that they aren't liked.
So, I have to wonder, why did this woman and that man get into teaching? Not for the kids' sakes. And I also have to wonder something more bothersome -- what have they taught this particular child?
Here Comes Ranting Santa, Here Comes Ranting Santa...."
A follow-up to my "Here Comes Secret Santa...." post:
My Secret Santa ROCKS.
The tchotchke spell of years past is officially broken! She totally gets me.
To be exactly accurate, they both do. I play the Secret Santa game in two circles. It's true that it's the thought that counts and both of these ladies really had me in mind. I'm very grateful to them both for going so out of their way for lil' ol' me. I hope the ladies I shopped for feel equally cared for!
Just a little bitty side rant here: This whole "should we say Christmas or Holiday" thing is stupid.
If you're talking to a Christian and want to be sensitive to that, or if you're the Christian and want to be sure everyone knows it, then say "Merry Christmas." Heck, paint it on the rooftop so Santa and every passing plane gets it, too. I don't care. And guess what? No one else does either.
It's just like if a Buddhist holds the door open for a Christian and gives a smiling, "Happy Holidays!" Are you honestly going to refuse that greeting because he didn't choose to say "Christmas"?
No reasonable person is going to throw your well-wishes back at you because you named a holiday they don't celebrate. In this world, we need all the well-wishes we can get, from whatever god or spirit wants to shine on us.
Saying "Happy Holidays" isn't offensive. It's considerate, and since when did our world need less of that? To say "Happy Holidays" or "Season's Greetings" is to not only acknowledge that we have more than one religion in the air, but we also have more than one holiday at the end of December. I don't mean more than one gift-giving holiday, but New Year's.
Besides, all of those rabid Christians out thereneed to take a closer look at the phrase they so vehemently oppose. "Holiday." "Holy Day." Are you honestly opposing the acknowledgement of a "Holy Day"? Idiots.
I get so sick of these people who claim to follow Christ, but can't manage to behave as Christ would have. Love one another. Go look it up in your Bible. Highlight it if you have to, but do something about honoring it. This contentious crap isn't helping anyone.
Okay, so it wasn't such a little bitty rant. Happy Holidays, y'all. ::wink::
My Secret Santa ROCKS.
The tchotchke spell of years past is officially broken! She totally gets me.
To be exactly accurate, they both do. I play the Secret Santa game in two circles. It's true that it's the thought that counts and both of these ladies really had me in mind. I'm very grateful to them both for going so out of their way for lil' ol' me. I hope the ladies I shopped for feel equally cared for!
Just a little bitty side rant here: This whole "should we say Christmas or Holiday" thing is stupid.
If you're talking to a Christian and want to be sensitive to that, or if you're the Christian and want to be sure everyone knows it, then say "Merry Christmas." Heck, paint it on the rooftop so Santa and every passing plane gets it, too. I don't care. And guess what? No one else does either.
It's just like if a Buddhist holds the door open for a Christian and gives a smiling, "Happy Holidays!" Are you honestly going to refuse that greeting because he didn't choose to say "Christmas"?
No reasonable person is going to throw your well-wishes back at you because you named a holiday they don't celebrate. In this world, we need all the well-wishes we can get, from whatever god or spirit wants to shine on us.
Saying "Happy Holidays" isn't offensive. It's considerate, and since when did our world need less of that? To say "Happy Holidays" or "Season's Greetings" is to not only acknowledge that we have more than one religion in the air, but we also have more than one holiday at the end of December. I don't mean more than one gift-giving holiday, but New Year's.
Besides, all of those rabid Christians out thereneed to take a closer look at the phrase they so vehemently oppose. "Holiday." "Holy Day." Are you honestly opposing the acknowledgement of a "Holy Day"? Idiots.
I get so sick of these people who claim to follow Christ, but can't manage to behave as Christ would have. Love one another. Go look it up in your Bible. Highlight it if you have to, but do something about honoring it. This contentious crap isn't helping anyone.
Okay, so it wasn't such a little bitty rant. Happy Holidays, y'all. ::wink::
Monday, December 19, 2005
Left turn, Clyde
Boyfriend and I went out to dinner Saturday night. It was rocky from the beginning. He was in one of his scowly, irritable tempers. The restaurant was crowded (i.e. plenty of opportunities for scowling). I said something that he decided was stupid, so I received a gritted-teeth scolding. Loudly.
I was understandably upset. And thought he was the one being stupid. And said so. Loudly. He apologized.
I was in no mood to deal with his cranky attitude. The "pickle" was occupying my head, too. I'm going to do something, but what? When? How? I can't deny that I was distracted. I finally spilled it and asked Boyfriend what he thought I should do. His reaction was certainly not what I expected.
"Wait. When did you see this guy?"
"Nearly two years ago, when we had that bad time." See, he doesn't like me to go into the particulars of that bad time. It makes him look quite terrible.
"You had dates then?"
"Of course I did. You knew that, but you also told me not to tell you if I had a date, just to let you know if it went further than that." Besides, did he honestly think I was going to sit at home, mooning over his assholeness? Get a grip.
He nodded, remembering that and thinking for a moment. Watching him, I could see his temper dissolving right there over the mashed potatoes.
"So, you had dates during that time? How many?"
I paused to scratch the info out of my memory. "Uhm...five. Well, six, but two were with the same guy."
His eyes went wide.
"Obviously," I said, "none of them worked out at all. What are you freaking out about?"
"I don't know. I've always said I knew guys hit on you all the time [note: they do not] and they'd want to go out with you. I just didn't realize...." he paused, looking upset, "...how close I was to losing you completely then."
I had nothing to say to this. It had been a bad, bad time. He'd let his life fall apart and tried to make me shoulder his responsibilities for him. I wasn't willing to drown in his poor decisions with him.
He was getting it back together at about the same time I was realizing that after six dates with five critically selfish men that no one understood me like he had, or cared about me like he had. And maybe, just maybe, that man was making his way back to the surface.
I got his viewpoint on the pickle. I'm forming an idea of what I'll do.
And I've shaken Boyfriend's world. He's so shaken that he didn't even care that the Colts lost yesterday. He always cares when the Colts lose.
At the end of the game, he called me.
"I'm sorry the Colts lost," I said, anticipating the topic.
"That's okay," said his depressed voice. "It's not important. What's important is that you know I love you, and that you know it every day. I'm where I am today because of you. And I didn't know how close I came to being without you forever."
I was nearly speechless. But I managed an utterly brilliant, "Okay."
"If you'd taken a shine to one of those guys, if just one of them had been good to you, I'd have been out of luck. I know you meet smart, clever guys every day. One of them will take a shine to you, and why wouldn't you be interested in that? I'm not giving you anything better."
He paused. I remained brilliance impaired.
"I have to get my act together. I have to make myself totally irreplaceable to you. I have to make sure you have no reason to be unhappy with me. I have to take care of you, like you take care of me."
I was understandably....shocked.
He's scared crapless of losing me. Not 12 hours before, his irritation at me had boiled over spectacularly, without any hint of caring what I thought or felt. Now, his world will collapse without me in it.
We'll see how persistent this turning-over-a-new-leaf attitude is. In the meantime, the pickle actually did me a favor.
I was understandably upset. And thought he was the one being stupid. And said so. Loudly. He apologized.
I was in no mood to deal with his cranky attitude. The "pickle" was occupying my head, too. I'm going to do something, but what? When? How? I can't deny that I was distracted. I finally spilled it and asked Boyfriend what he thought I should do. His reaction was certainly not what I expected.
"Wait. When did you see this guy?"
"Nearly two years ago, when we had that bad time." See, he doesn't like me to go into the particulars of that bad time. It makes him look quite terrible.
"You had dates then?"
"Of course I did. You knew that, but you also told me not to tell you if I had a date, just to let you know if it went further than that." Besides, did he honestly think I was going to sit at home, mooning over his assholeness? Get a grip.
He nodded, remembering that and thinking for a moment. Watching him, I could see his temper dissolving right there over the mashed potatoes.
"So, you had dates during that time? How many?"
I paused to scratch the info out of my memory. "Uhm...five. Well, six, but two were with the same guy."
His eyes went wide.
"Obviously," I said, "none of them worked out at all. What are you freaking out about?"
"I don't know. I've always said I knew guys hit on you all the time [note: they do not] and they'd want to go out with you. I just didn't realize...." he paused, looking upset, "...how close I was to losing you completely then."
I had nothing to say to this. It had been a bad, bad time. He'd let his life fall apart and tried to make me shoulder his responsibilities for him. I wasn't willing to drown in his poor decisions with him.
He was getting it back together at about the same time I was realizing that after six dates with five critically selfish men that no one understood me like he had, or cared about me like he had. And maybe, just maybe, that man was making his way back to the surface.
I got his viewpoint on the pickle. I'm forming an idea of what I'll do.
And I've shaken Boyfriend's world. He's so shaken that he didn't even care that the Colts lost yesterday. He always cares when the Colts lose.
At the end of the game, he called me.
"I'm sorry the Colts lost," I said, anticipating the topic.
"That's okay," said his depressed voice. "It's not important. What's important is that you know I love you, and that you know it every day. I'm where I am today because of you. And I didn't know how close I came to being without you forever."
I was nearly speechless. But I managed an utterly brilliant, "Okay."
"If you'd taken a shine to one of those guys, if just one of them had been good to you, I'd have been out of luck. I know you meet smart, clever guys every day. One of them will take a shine to you, and why wouldn't you be interested in that? I'm not giving you anything better."
He paused. I remained brilliance impaired.
"I have to get my act together. I have to make myself totally irreplaceable to you. I have to make sure you have no reason to be unhappy with me. I have to take care of you, like you take care of me."
I was understandably....shocked.
He's scared crapless of losing me. Not 12 hours before, his irritation at me had boiled over spectacularly, without any hint of caring what I thought or felt. Now, his world will collapse without me in it.
We'll see how persistent this turning-over-a-new-leaf attitude is. In the meantime, the pickle actually did me a favor.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Well, here's a fine pickle
Flashback to May 2004:
A friend of a friend sets me up with a friend. We meet and go out. He's obviously not the age the friend claimed, but I let that slide as the friend's mistake. This guy's problem is that all he seems to want to do is make out. All hands. He sends me an email shortly after that date, telling me how much he misses me and wants to see me again. His email is a Yahoo address, so I look up the name to see if there's a profile.
Oh yeah, there sure is. A few keywords jump off the screen at me:
"Married but Looking"
Member of the "Extramarital Affairs" and "Flashing" groups.
"I like women and sex, not necessarily in that order."
I was understandably upset.
No one told me he was married. What a total louse. Needless to say, I don't have those friends anymore.
Oh, and for what it might be worth to someone, he goes by Ash. Ash W.
(((Return from Flashback Land.)))
Tonight. I'm at my son's basketball game. I'm catching up with a friend whose son is friends with mine, but on the opposite team. My ex shows up and sits by me. It's going to be a long game.
Then, the game gets longer.
My friend is joined by a woman I don't know. She introduces us. Nice lady. She points out her son. I point out mine. The nice lady's husband sits down beside her.
Ash.
We don't make eye contact. Ever. I'm not sure what I'd have done if we had. Maybe stuck out my tongue. Then again, he might have found that encouraging. I was furious.
When the kids went to bed, I went to see if his profile is still posted. It is, and he's still claiming to be about 13 years younger than he is. As if, dude.
So, what to do? Nothing? An anonymous warning? Like a copy of the profile, addressed to her? It's scary that this guy is running around, bringing home God-knows-what to this poor woman. Or am I sticking my keyboard where it doesn't belong?
Yes, a fine pickle indeed. Dang small world.
A friend of a friend sets me up with a friend. We meet and go out. He's obviously not the age the friend claimed, but I let that slide as the friend's mistake. This guy's problem is that all he seems to want to do is make out. All hands. He sends me an email shortly after that date, telling me how much he misses me and wants to see me again. His email is a Yahoo address, so I look up the name to see if there's a profile.
Oh yeah, there sure is. A few keywords jump off the screen at me:
"Married but Looking"
Member of the "Extramarital Affairs" and "Flashing" groups.
"I like women and sex, not necessarily in that order."
I was understandably upset.
No one told me he was married. What a total louse. Needless to say, I don't have those friends anymore.
Oh, and for what it might be worth to someone, he goes by Ash. Ash W.
(((Return from Flashback Land.)))
Tonight. I'm at my son's basketball game. I'm catching up with a friend whose son is friends with mine, but on the opposite team. My ex shows up and sits by me. It's going to be a long game.
Then, the game gets longer.
My friend is joined by a woman I don't know. She introduces us. Nice lady. She points out her son. I point out mine. The nice lady's husband sits down beside her.
Ash.
We don't make eye contact. Ever. I'm not sure what I'd have done if we had. Maybe stuck out my tongue. Then again, he might have found that encouraging. I was furious.
When the kids went to bed, I went to see if his profile is still posted. It is, and he's still claiming to be about 13 years younger than he is. As if, dude.
So, what to do? Nothing? An anonymous warning? Like a copy of the profile, addressed to her? It's scary that this guy is running around, bringing home God-knows-what to this poor woman. Or am I sticking my keyboard where it doesn't belong?
Yes, a fine pickle indeed. Dang small world.
We interrupt our regularly scheduled Christmas tune....
....for a rant. Can you hear that sound, like something scraping across the floor? It's just me getting the soapbox in place.
Now, stepping up.
Ahem.
People. Are. Stupid.
Present company excluded, of course, so we're free to talk about the stupid people.
My most recently gathered evidence to back up my claim:
I'm leaving out the many instances of "I'll be their" and "we'll have a party hear" that I've seen lately. Those are so numerous and painful that I just can't bear (bare? baer? bayer? beer?) to list them all. The point is still the same:
What the h-e-double-hockey-sticks has happened to the average IQ?
I see these mistakes made by professional business people and educators. We're talking about people who should KNOW better! And the mistakes I see on the evening news. I mean, that's out there for God and everyone to see! I can't tell you how many days went by that our local news show proudly displayed their new logo for a "Music Fesitval." Days!
Does no one employ editors anymore?
And why is it that I can write an email to ask someone more than one question, but all I get back is the answer to the last question I asked? Did I just not need to know the rest and someone forgot to tell me?
Think about it. How many times a week do you hear something on the news about someone doing something insanely stupid and it gets someone killed? I'm just so tired of dealing with people who just won't think. I make a clear distinction between "can't" and "won't."
Maybe in our age of convenience, we're expecting less of our brains. Or, more to the point, less of others' brains. So much is automated, with spell check and grammar check, that we just don't exercise as much gray matter. I've also noticed that an aversion to opening a book is spreading like an epidemic. I adore books, even work with books, so this is particularly alarming to me.
So, what's to be done?
A lot of people need to step up to the plate and hold to a higher standard, whenever possible. Catch a misspelling on the TV? Call or email and let them know! Someone, somewhere will get tired of hearing about it and make a change.
We need to monitor ourselves. If you know better, then just make sure you do better. That MBA guy above knows better. He's almost finished with an MBA, for pity sake. He can manage to look more like a literate person than his emails suggest!
We need to monitor education. If your child's teacher is giving the wrong info, say so. Go to the Principal if necessary. Your child deserves better.
We don't have to sit here and let our world sink into illiteracy.
You might be wondering what brought this on. I spoke to a teacher yesterday who couldn't understand why her exams were under fire for not meeting the state education requirements. They called for her exam to include a question in which "the student describes the impact personal decisions have on health, well-being, future employment, and family." What question did she create to meet this requirement?
"True/False: Snacks are not nutritious."
Oh good gravy.
Now, stepping up.
Ahem.
People. Are. Stupid.
Present company excluded, of course, so we're free to talk about the stupid people.
My most recently gathered evidence to back up my claim:
- I asked a waiter for some hot cocoa and a glass of water. Waiter brings a glass of water and a package of powdered cocoa mix.
- "American artist Pablo Picasso...."
- "When did Sherlock Holmes publish his first mystery novel?"
- "On September 11, 2002, three planes were hijacked...." (this one is actually from a history teacher.)
- From an MBA student: "i wont email this week b-cuz i m studying 4 finals" (Oh good Lord, please don't let him email me again!)
- "He came in 4rth place." (no, not a typo.)
- "We are located on the High Planes of Texas."
I'm leaving out the many instances of "I'll be their" and "we'll have a party hear" that I've seen lately. Those are so numerous and painful that I just can't bear (bare? baer? bayer? beer?) to list them all. The point is still the same:
What the h-e-double-hockey-sticks has happened to the average IQ?
I see these mistakes made by professional business people and educators. We're talking about people who should KNOW better! And the mistakes I see on the evening news. I mean, that's out there for God and everyone to see! I can't tell you how many days went by that our local news show proudly displayed their new logo for a "Music Fesitval." Days!
Does no one employ editors anymore?
And why is it that I can write an email to ask someone more than one question, but all I get back is the answer to the last question I asked? Did I just not need to know the rest and someone forgot to tell me?
Think about it. How many times a week do you hear something on the news about someone doing something insanely stupid and it gets someone killed? I'm just so tired of dealing with people who just won't think. I make a clear distinction between "can't" and "won't."
Maybe in our age of convenience, we're expecting less of our brains. Or, more to the point, less of others' brains. So much is automated, with spell check and grammar check, that we just don't exercise as much gray matter. I've also noticed that an aversion to opening a book is spreading like an epidemic. I adore books, even work with books, so this is particularly alarming to me.
So, what's to be done?
A lot of people need to step up to the plate and hold to a higher standard, whenever possible. Catch a misspelling on the TV? Call or email and let them know! Someone, somewhere will get tired of hearing about it and make a change.
We need to monitor ourselves. If you know better, then just make sure you do better. That MBA guy above knows better. He's almost finished with an MBA, for pity sake. He can manage to look more like a literate person than his emails suggest!
We need to monitor education. If your child's teacher is giving the wrong info, say so. Go to the Principal if necessary. Your child deserves better.
We don't have to sit here and let our world sink into illiteracy.
You might be wondering what brought this on. I spoke to a teacher yesterday who couldn't understand why her exams were under fire for not meeting the state education requirements. They called for her exam to include a question in which "the student describes the impact personal decisions have on health, well-being, future employment, and family." What question did she create to meet this requirement?
"True/False: Snacks are not nutritious."
Oh good gravy.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Sing along! "It's the most stressful time of the year..."
First, let me say that my Secret Santa is really good at being a Secret Santa! Well, except the "Secret" part. I know who it is because I held the front door open for her today and saw the shopping bag with a gift inside. I couldn't see the gift, but the same shopping bag was delivered to me today, with my gift bag inside. Hmmm... ANYHOW, she's perfect. She's really made an effort to shop for stuff for me, specifically. It's great to know someone is thinking about you.
Good news: I'm about finished with Christmas shopping. Bad news: It's not even the 15th of the month and my budget is obliterated. eBay, here I come! That'll add about, oh, $4 to my pocket. I'm broker than broke and half a month to go. Bummer.
Life has thrown me a few more cherry pits, and I'm in desperate need of a sounding board. You know, someone who cares about you and your trials and wants to help you with that burden by listening and giving advice, if needed. Usually, that's a significant other. So, I talk to Boyfriend about what's on my head right now. He makes a vague comment or two then it's back to that ol' Toby Keith song.
You know the one. It goes:
"I wanna talk about ME!!!"
I'm not sure he even heard me, and he sure as H-E-double-hockey-sticks won't give it a second thought. It's all mine and mine alone to figure out.
Thanks for the support. Sweetie. You know, this isn't the person he used to be. What's more is that I said the exact same thing about my husband, right before seeking out a divorce lawyer.
Good news: I'm about finished with Christmas shopping. Bad news: It's not even the 15th of the month and my budget is obliterated. eBay, here I come! That'll add about, oh, $4 to my pocket. I'm broker than broke and half a month to go. Bummer.
Life has thrown me a few more cherry pits, and I'm in desperate need of a sounding board. You know, someone who cares about you and your trials and wants to help you with that burden by listening and giving advice, if needed. Usually, that's a significant other. So, I talk to Boyfriend about what's on my head right now. He makes a vague comment or two then it's back to that ol' Toby Keith song.
You know the one. It goes:
"I wanna talk about ME!!!"
I'm not sure he even heard me, and he sure as H-E-double-hockey-sticks won't give it a second thought. It's all mine and mine alone to figure out.
Thanks for the support. Sweetie. You know, this isn't the person he used to be. What's more is that I said the exact same thing about my husband, right before seeking out a divorce lawyer.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Here Comes Secret Santa, Here Comes Secret Santa....
....Right Down Secret Santa Lane!
Yes, I play Secret Santa at the office. And man oh man, do I get into it!
I get that wish list and start making a list (and checking it twice!) of things I can match to this person's favorite things! I shop with them in mind. I don't spend a fortune, to be true. I'm on a budget, after all (like nearly everyone else!). But I bust my can to get something(s) that matches the list.
I mean, I put a lot of effort into making sure my Secret Santa list was full of all my likes and tastes, so the person drawing my name has a lot of options and ideas. I assume everyone else does the same. So, I try my little Christmas-loving (or should that be "Holiday-loving"?) heart out for them.
So, the big day comes and I send out my surprises for that person, through my Secret Santa Delivery Network. This is the thrill for me.
It's a good thing the receiving isn't what I look forward to because nearly every year, it's the same. I get any old bit of tchotchke they found at the dollar store or local garage sale.
Wait a minute, now. Hold up. I can hear a few gasps out there, those of you thinking, "This Blogget gal has some nerve! It's the thought that counts, not the price!"
Let me say, you're exactly right. About the "thought that counts" part, I mean. That's my point. I do not care how much something costs. I care that someone put the effort into finding something that suits me, that they thought of me while shopping. I filled out the paperwork, just like they did. I put thought into it...for what? So it can be stuffed into a purse with all the holiday receipts and cold-weather-runny-nose tissues, to be tossed out with the other Christmas litter? No, that's not really what I had in mind.
Just remember this, if you're in one of these Secret Santa things, too. Don't be a lame-ass Secret Santa who doesn't care whose name is on that paper you drew. It can make the difference between making someone's day, or being regifted.
Yes, I play Secret Santa at the office. And man oh man, do I get into it!
I get that wish list and start making a list (and checking it twice!) of things I can match to this person's favorite things! I shop with them in mind. I don't spend a fortune, to be true. I'm on a budget, after all (like nearly everyone else!). But I bust my can to get something(s) that matches the list.
I mean, I put a lot of effort into making sure my Secret Santa list was full of all my likes and tastes, so the person drawing my name has a lot of options and ideas. I assume everyone else does the same. So, I try my little Christmas-loving (or should that be "Holiday-loving"?) heart out for them.
So, the big day comes and I send out my surprises for that person, through my Secret Santa Delivery Network. This is the thrill for me.
It's a good thing the receiving isn't what I look forward to because nearly every year, it's the same. I get any old bit of tchotchke they found at the dollar store or local garage sale.
Wait a minute, now. Hold up. I can hear a few gasps out there, those of you thinking, "This Blogget gal has some nerve! It's the thought that counts, not the price!"
Let me say, you're exactly right. About the "thought that counts" part, I mean. That's my point. I do not care how much something costs. I care that someone put the effort into finding something that suits me, that they thought of me while shopping. I filled out the paperwork, just like they did. I put thought into it...for what? So it can be stuffed into a purse with all the holiday receipts and cold-weather-runny-nose tissues, to be tossed out with the other Christmas litter? No, that's not really what I had in mind.
Just remember this, if you're in one of these Secret Santa things, too. Don't be a lame-ass Secret Santa who doesn't care whose name is on that paper you drew. It can make the difference between making someone's day, or being regifted.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Sleigh bells ring...are you listenin'?
Ah, the holidays! Something new hit retailers this year -- the fear of the word "Christmas"! It seems, they are suddenly afraid that using the word "Christmas" alienates a larger portion of shoppers. Suddenly. How many years has it been used? And no one ever stopped at the doors of a retailer and said, "Oh no! It's a Christmas sale! I'm Jewish, so I can't go in and save like the Christians can!" Puhleeze. None of my Jewish relatives ever turned away from a good sale....
I've done my share of shopping online, finding all sorts of things that the people on my list didn't even know they needed! I still enjoy the in-store shopping, though. Nothing like making your decisions standing there, at the shelf, then happily lugging all of your great finds to the cashier, and try to do your own spur-of-the-moment analysis of which shopper ahead of you will be fastest through the line. Ah, the thrill of the chase!
So, I'm wandering the Target toy department, late on a Sunday. The kiss of death actually happened before I left home. I looked in the mirror and said, "Good enough. No one I know will be out anyhow." This statement caused the fabric of time and space to rip open and snatch this guy I used to know from whatever life he had, and deposit him in the same toy department, at the same time.
As he turned, I recognized him. It's been years, but he's still as cute as ever. Nice, warm, friendly smile. He saw me and his eyes lit up. "Hey! I thought you moved away!" No, I didn't. "I'm still here," I said brilliantly.
We talked for about 20 minutes. This guy and I have a common interest and he's come up with some interesting ideas on it. He wants to talk more about this, another time. I get his email address (today's version of "Can I get your number?") and find out he's gone back to school, too. Good for him. He's too sharp to let a good education pass him by.
And there I was in my oversized t-shirt and the leggings I only wear when I haven't done laundry. Crap. At least I was having a good hair day (for me).
So, I'll email him in a moment. I know this could be trouble. I have the he-tries-to-cheat-but-has-been-with-me-a-long-time boyfriend. I've warned him that even though life proves to me incessantly that I'm not "enough" for any man, I still hold onto the dream of being all that to someone. I've warned him that if such an option comes up before he can show me I'm enough for him, I might just take it.
I'm getting ahead of myself, though. The nice guy just wants to chat. He might not be interested in me personally anymore, but misses the work we once did together. It could be nothing more, and no problem.
We'll see. Wish me luck!
I've done my share of shopping online, finding all sorts of things that the people on my list didn't even know they needed! I still enjoy the in-store shopping, though. Nothing like making your decisions standing there, at the shelf, then happily lugging all of your great finds to the cashier, and try to do your own spur-of-the-moment analysis of which shopper ahead of you will be fastest through the line. Ah, the thrill of the chase!
So, I'm wandering the Target toy department, late on a Sunday. The kiss of death actually happened before I left home. I looked in the mirror and said, "Good enough. No one I know will be out anyhow." This statement caused the fabric of time and space to rip open and snatch this guy I used to know from whatever life he had, and deposit him in the same toy department, at the same time.
As he turned, I recognized him. It's been years, but he's still as cute as ever. Nice, warm, friendly smile. He saw me and his eyes lit up. "Hey! I thought you moved away!" No, I didn't. "I'm still here," I said brilliantly.
We talked for about 20 minutes. This guy and I have a common interest and he's come up with some interesting ideas on it. He wants to talk more about this, another time. I get his email address (today's version of "Can I get your number?") and find out he's gone back to school, too. Good for him. He's too sharp to let a good education pass him by.
And there I was in my oversized t-shirt and the leggings I only wear when I haven't done laundry. Crap. At least I was having a good hair day (for me).
So, I'll email him in a moment. I know this could be trouble. I have the he-tries-to-cheat-but-has-been-with-me-a-long-time boyfriend. I've warned him that even though life proves to me incessantly that I'm not "enough" for any man, I still hold onto the dream of being all that to someone. I've warned him that if such an option comes up before he can show me I'm enough for him, I might just take it.
I'm getting ahead of myself, though. The nice guy just wants to chat. He might not be interested in me personally anymore, but misses the work we once did together. It could be nothing more, and no problem.
We'll see. Wish me luck!
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