I just want to scream...HELLOOOOO!!!

Okay, so I stole my title from a line in a Pearl Jam song...So sue me! It's how I feel lately. I realized that like a week and a half ago when I was driving home and that song (For those of you not in the know it's called, Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town...Yes, it's like the longest title for a Pearl Jam song.) came on my iPod and I found myself rockin' out to it and when it got to that part, I was literally shouting it...Hmm...Apparently, I need an outlet. Luckily, I drive home from work alone so no one is forced to listen to my lousy singing voice. I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. That's not the point though...The point is this--My fucking head hurts.


There's been so much stuff going on and I am just swimming. Just like Dory in Finding Nemo--Just keep swimming. I feel like I'm barely treading water though and I'm not sure what I can do to change it all. Everything just seems to get so fucked up so quickly and then I find myself, surveying the nuclear fallout going, "What the fuck just happened? How did this happen?" And it's never anything huge--No, it's always the small little things that you don't notice. Like getting a third kid. lol Okay, that's not little, but you know what I mean. We had two foster kids...What's a third kid? Well, let me tell you--It's HUGE! It seems like a little thing, especially since he's only two, but fuck me running...No one wants two two year olds. If Phoenix and I ever have twins, I'm moving out and will return when they're all grown up. Suddenly Hurricane is instigating all kinds of shit and can't go three seconds without going into meltdown because she has to have everything Mr. Mischief has...or beat him. Beat him going downstairs, upstairs, out the door, to the kitchen table...Anywhere and everywhere. She will push him, hit him, and bite him to beat him. I'm not altogether sure that he knows it's a competition. We've had him for nearly a month now (Or maybe a month...I don't know.) and they keep saying we won't have him much longer because they found a family member to take him, which is great because I'm pretty sure we'll have the other two until they grow up and get married. I'll be sad though because I really like Mr. Mischief...He's adorable...And not a girl with girl drama. *grins*


So, we got the third kid thinking it'd be all right. It changed everything. Not only did Hurricane start acting up, but so did Sir Complains A Lot (Hurricane's older sister). Not so much with us, but at Daycare. So not cool. Whilst dealing with the shit with the kids and the holidays, work has gone to hell in a hand basket. I cannot stand my job. I find myself getting nauseous each morning when I have to log in to take that first call. I know, no one calls their credit card company because they're happy. No, they all call because they're fucking idiots with their heads so far up their asses they have no idea which way is up. But I never know if I'm going to get that person that's going to lose it on me or the one who is totally cool and then gets a survey and goes fucking postal in the survey about shit we never talked about because they're passive aggressive fuckheads. If you have a problem and you don't tell me, then I can't fix it. Weird how that works, huh? So, yeah...My scores at work totally fucking tanked because people suck hairy schweaty balls. Extra bonus money? Oh no, I think not. Who needs money anyway, right?


Speaking of work, we just got word that they're changing the way they pay us out for the bonuses and for our sales...In reality, I'm pretty sure they're trying to find ways to pay us less because if I get even just a few bad surveys, I'm only going to get a percentage of my sales. It's not fair. Yes, I know, life isn't fair...Blah, blah, blah. I get that. I'm not having a pity party, but if I earn something, I should get it and some asshole who can't handle the responsibility of having a credit card shouldn't have the ability to take that away from me. If I'm being immature or something, then by all means, call me out, but I think I'm right in this. That's like if you're a waiter/waitress and you earn your tips, but all month they go in a bucket and you know you have like $300 in tips. At the end of the month, your boss comes up and says, "I'm only giving you $150 because a few tables said they didn't like our food." Would that be fair? Or if you cut hair and your boss says they're taking away some of your tips because one of your clients doesn't like the person they spoke to at the desk on the way in or hated the music playing in the background. Would you like that? No, you'd be like, "Fuck you!" Except, I can't say that...I had to sign on the dotted line saying I'd be okay taking just a cut because if I didn't sign, I wouldn't get my pay out at all. I might as well have signed my soul to the devil...That's how I felt.


In our "private lives", not that we have those because I like to share my life and times with the world, Phoenix has been having a rough time. Her Aunt Prudence, who was technically a Step-Aunt and only 39, passed away on December 30. She had been battling cancer for the last three or so years. It was really horrible and I felt so bad. Phoenix basically grew up with her since Prudence was pretty young when Phoenix's dad got with Prudence's sister (Phoenix's step-mom). We spent a lot of time with her family and I don't even know how that would feel. We went to the viewing and then the funeral. Along the way I found myself thinking that viewings are fucking morbid. When I die, I don't want people looking at me. And because I've read far too many Stephen King/Dean Koontz books, it was hard to go look at her because something in the back of my head said she may just pop up. I know, I'm sick and demented, but I can't help it. I knew she wouldn't, but it was still there...Like a warning, "Watch out!" But then when I went up there and looked at her, she didn't even look like her...Not that it was someone else and we were in the wrong room, but when someone passes on, it's not them anymore. It's not just bone structure and such that make a person...It's everything, they're personality and everything. Prudence didn't look like Prudence. It just sucks. Since that happened, Phoenix hasn't been okay. She's on edge a lot and I get it. I try to help how I can, but things are rough. It's hard with the kids and I feel like I spend a lot of my life now saying things like, "Don't do that," "Sit down!", "Don't play on the stairs!", "That's not a toy!" And so on and so on. I know she needs time to process what happened and it's hard because time is the one thing we never seem to have enough of.


So, in true Heather fashion, I decided to give up smoking once again. I quit before and went two years without smoking and then I started again because I'm an idiot. I quit a while back for almost a month, but I kept getting bad headaches, like to the point that I wanted to just lock myself in a dark room and not talk to people. Honestly, I was going to spend my spare time crying because my head had hurt so bad. Phoenix finally bought me a pack and was like, "Here." I shouldn't have smoked them, but then I did...And then more packs. So, here I am again. Five days of not smoking. I don't feel as edgy as I did the last few days, but my head is killing me. It feels like it's in a vice and someone just keeps twisting the fucking thing. For the first couple of days, I couldn't sit still. I was so antsy, I felt like an ADHD kid without his/her Ritalin. I never have issues focusing on things, but I couldn't the other day. I was hyper too, which is so not like me. I'm hoping to find some sort of relief from this headache. I've tried Motrin and Tylenol, but neither has helped. I can't handle it. I especially can't handle it when I have to go to work and take calls for 10 hours a day. Something has got to give here soon...I fear it's going to be my sanity. We'll see what happens...

Too tired to title...(I should get alliteration points!)

Well, it feels like it's been just about forever since I last blogged. I guess it's been over a month. I'm sorry for that. Things have been crazy hectic since I last wrote...We still have our foster kids, Sir Complains A Lot and her younger, bratty sister Hurricane. Since last I wrote, we increased out license and got a third kid. We felt bad because there are so many kids in the system and they have no where to put them, so how dare I have a spare bedroom that could be used as a guest room if anyone were to ever visit me? So, yeah...We upped the license and we've gotten about thirty calls asking about different kids. Most of the kids were in sibling groups--four or five kids. Can you take all of them? Um, no. We have room for one and do not need to round out the number of kids to an even dozen. Although, if I got that many, I would buy a whistle and teach them to come to their tune on the whistle and teach them to sing...And we could escape the Nazis by going through a nunnery and running over the Alps...*stops and considers this* Okay, maybe I've seen The Sound of Music a hundred too many times...Whatever. Who can resist The Lonely Goatherd song?


So, the calls kept coming in. Finally, we actually got a kid. We'll call him Goliath...think of the story, if it's not Goliath, it's----Yeah. Anyway, so Goliath was an 8 year old boy who on his first night was already tossing toys down the stairs, jumping down them, and sliding across the linoleum. By day two, he was tossing toys over the loft wall and down the stairs. We think we might've dodged a bullet when they called to pick him up three days after we got him. Well, I guess it was more like 48 hours later, but the third day. Phoenix was thinking he might've been slightly autistic too because he had some very strange mannerisms. But he was gone quickly. Then we almost got a 4 year old little boy who was in the hospital with a broken leg. Phoenix was asked to go pick him up from the hospital and she agreed, but then the CPS worker threw it out there that he was in a cast from his clavicle (shoulder) to his knee. Say what!? A 4 year old in a body cast? He couldn't sit up, so if we were to take him in the car he would need to lay down. So, already that doesn't work since we have two other kids who need the backseat as well. Second, we live in a two-story house...Are we to carry him everywhere? CPS suggested a wagon. Oh good...That would work lovely on the stairs, I'm sure. "Hold on, kid! We're going down!" *rolls eyes* He also had to wear diapers. So not cool. Phoenix would've had to take time off of work to take care of him, which wasn't an option. So, we had to pass on him. And I tried not to think about why a little boy is in a body cast for a "broken leg"...It would have to be his hip or femur to need to be in such a big cast, you know? *shakes head* Let's not think about it. Finally, we got a call and it was another sibling group, but they needed to find somewhere quickly for the youngest brother who is 2. Yay! Another 2 year old! We'll call him Mr. Mischief. It sucks to admit this, but he's absolutely adorable. He doesn't talk a lot, but he's a sweet little boy...And he's ALL boy...Like rough and tough little boy. lol I picked him up on my way home from work on the Monday before Christmas. I met his brothers. It was very strange. He looks like he might be white and African American. He has a three year old brother who looks Mexican and African American...And a 9 year old brother who looks straight up African American. No way would anyone think they were all related. Basically, I walked in and CPS was like, "Here you go." And I took him home. I have grown somewhat attached to the little guy in the last week and a half and today Phoenix got a call from CPS asking if we wanted the 3 year old as well. We can't. It just won't work with our cars. So, CPS says they might have a house that will take the 3 year old...and Mr. Mischief. *sad face* I know he'll be better off with his brother, but it sucks. He's such a cutie, not to mention, he's way less drama than Hurricane and Sir Complains A Lot. It figures. We're going to have the two girls until they're married or something, but the cute little boy comes and goes so quickly...


In other news, our puppies ran off. We went to California at the beginning of the month and Phoenix's mom puppy-sat them. While they were there, someone kicked in her back gate and our dogs were gone. Either they took them or our stupid, lovable dogs ran off. Dumb dogs...We've watched Craig's List and the pound, but to no avail. We had just spent over $100 registering them too!! Not to mention all the money Spencer cost me by chewing everything up! Or Madeline and her need to rip out the drip system in the backyard...Fucking dogs!


And what blog would be complete without some words about work? *sighs* Work, work, work...I think that I would have an absolute heart attack if just one card holder would take responsibility for their own mistakes, but in our society, that appears to be too much to expect. I am also pretty damn sure they don't listen to a thing they say, let alone what anyone else says. For instance, listen to this craziness that we all hear almost daily--"I mailed my payment in two days before it was due! I don't know why you are sitting on my check not posting it!" Ummm...In what universe do you live in, dumbass, where it only takes two days to mail something from Seattle to Dallas? I mean, really. Especially at Christmas time. So, two days to mail it that far and for it to be processed at our payment processing center and posted to the account. You're right, American Citizen, you mailed it in plenty of time. Our workers must've had a slow day. Please, let me credit you for that late fee and I'll throw in some extra points on your account to make up for you having to take five minutes out of your life to call in. *rolls eyes* I had a guy argue with me that he doesn't have any control over the USPS. I said, "Neither do we." He didn't like that, but come on! I work for a credit card company--We want your fucking money! Why would we not process your payments? It's just nonsense. And we offer free pay by phone! How much easier can we make it? Today I had a guy call in asking about a balance transfer. He said he initiated it ten days ago and we still aren't showing it, so we must be milking him for every penny of interest we can to pay my bonus. I sort of laughed at the absurdity of it and refrained from pointing out that I would not be getting much of a bonus at all since assholes like him give me shitty survey scores because they are pissed at my company. I am so over jackasses saying things like, "The service was great, but...." and then go off about shit that wasn't on the call with me and give me a shitty score. I want to call back and be like, "Thanks, dick face." Dick face? Who says that? I have no idea where that came from, but whatever. It's how I feel...And how a lot of my co-workers feel. It sucks. I suppose I probably wouldn't be so outraged about all this shit if I had had some sleep recently, but I haven't. I've gone five nights without sleeping through the night and without getting much more than a couple of hours of sleep. I have bronchitis and I'm so not in the mood to deal with anyone. I nearly told a lady today that I didn't care if she canceled her card. She was pissed over an interest charge and told me that if I didn't remove it, she would cancel her card. I had to mute my phone and bite my tongue for a moment to refrain from saying, "I'm not removing the interest charge. It's a valid charge. And I can cancel your card for you." I mean, seriously. Threats mean nothing to me...Unless you say you know where I live and what I drive and that you're going to come get me...Then I'd gladly remove the interest charge and give you whatever you want...*grins*

It just gets old after a while. They talk to us like we're a bunch of morons. No, ass monkey, I'm not the idiot who expected my payment to go from China to Idaho in two days. I'm also not the idiot yelling about a charge not going through when I'm already $4000 over my limit. Nor am I the jackass screaming at someone on the phone just because I can. Nope, I'm the poor sap trying to make ends meet by working at a shitty job, getting yelled at by idiots, because I need a job. And on some days, the only way I make it through my day is by joking with my team at work. My team is the biggest bunch of misfits I've ever met, but I'd be lost without them. I mean, who else would go along with my jokes about how I'm coughing up my lungs and other spare organs like my spleen and liver? Haha! This is the same team who still loves me even when I get so pissed off on calls that I throw my mouse or flip my keyboard. (I know, it's immature, but it's hard to take it sometimes.) And on the other side of my cubicle wall is where Ken sits with Barbie. Ken should get an award for his temper tantrums. He literally stomps his foot and sometimes slams his hand on his desk. I joke that I didn't bring my riot gear and hard hat to work, so he needs to keep it down. Or on other days, I've been known to ask if there are cockroaches running around and if he's killing them. lol We all have our days, but we all find ways to joke about it to survive...


All right, well, that's it for me tonight. It's late and I should be trying to get some sleep. I think I hear half a bottle of Nyquil calling my name...Or maybe just the bottle of Tequila...You know, whatever.

Don't touch me!

As many of you know, I spent a majority of my life avoiding people touching me. I remember as a small child, of like 5 or so, avoiding my one grandma I called, "Nana". She would always try to hug me and all her kisses seemed to be aimed at my lips. *shivers at the thoughts* So gross! She was old and wrinkly and had all sorts of health issues. With all the meds she was on, and probably due to poor hygiene, she always smelled and I hated her kissing me and hugging me. I know, five is pretty young to avoid people's affection, but I did. It only got worse from there. Once when I was like 12 or so, probably not long before Nana passed away, I told her she smelled like formaldehyde. That didn't go over too well. I don't even know why I had said that as I didn't know what that smelled like, but I knew it was used to preserve old dead things. I know, I know, I'm a horrible person. *shrugs* That's me, take or leave it, but you can see that this has been an on-going problem.


As a teenager, I remember having friends who thought it was "normal" (whatever that is) to hug one another and to sit so close that you might as well be on the person's lap. I was so not into this. I used to ALWAYS say, "Don't touch me!" Or "Stop touching me!" It was just me and I hated people trying to touch me. People are dirty and sometimes they smell...Not always bad, but think of all the stuff you put on--lotion, body wash, shampoo, toothpaste, make-up, body spray--It can all become overwhelming. I don't have a hound dog's nose, but really, it's a bit much. I know, I spray my body spray all the time, but I don't go out of my way to be close to people or whatever. But I digress...For some of my friends, it became a game. Like people would go out of their way to walk by me in the hall and reach out to touch me or whatever. *rolls eyes* And each time, I'd fall for it and be like, "Dude! Don't touch me!" Remember, I said I was a teenager at the time. In fact, some people took it too far and would make it a point to try to stroke my hair and freak me out even more...Yup, these are the types of people I chummed around with.


As an adult, I chilled out a bit and found it was easier to avoid people touching me. It freaks me out though when people touch me because I have no idea where their hands have been. I mean, look at this:





Hello! I don't want your ball germs on me! People are so gross!! And I know people don't always wash their hands! I see people all the time at work in the bathroom who don't wash their hands or who sit there fixing their hair before washing their hands. Dude, you just got pee germs all over your hair! Plus, my Grandpa taught me to NEVER touch the door handle in the bathroom because again PEOPLE DON'T WASH THEIR HANDS! But I constantly see people wash their hands, then grab that door handle! EWWW!!! And then these are the people who offer to grab you a drink from the cafeteria, shake your hand, grab a cookie off that plate of cookies, etc...*gags* It freaks me out.


What's the point of this rant, you ask? Well let me tell you...This morning we had to go to a court hearing for the foster kids. The girls' mom and dad were there, along with the baby daddies for the other two older kids and grandma to one of the girls. The judge started off the hearing all pissed off because mom went off on the grandma outside the courtroom, blaming her for the kids being taken away, and the sheriffs had to intervene to prevent any blows from being thrown. After watching that scene, I knew we'd have the kids for a while longer at least. So, we sat through the hearing, listening to all the lies being thrown about by the parents and everyone else. CPS sat there, not saying much of anything. It took everything in me to keep quiet as I listened to the bullshit the parents' attorneys were saying. Afterward, we stood in the hall waiting to talk to the CPS worker, but mom and dad got to her first. We stood there for over twenty minutes waiting our turn. Finally we got to have our say with her and then the parents walked out to the parking lot with us. As we walked, the mom kept reaching out and touching me. It's not considered good manners to cringe as someone reaches towards you, so I refrained, but really...In my head, this is what it looked like as she reached for me.



or even like this:



You know those are gross...And a little funny in that, "I now need to take a shower with bleach and steel wool" sort of way. But seriously, this is what she looks like to me. I know she's been a druggie in the past and is trying to get clean now. I don't know what sort of diseases or things she has. Phoenix told me that herpes is not contagious through touch after we had left court today and I complained about it, and I know that, but still...I was literally giving myself hives afterward because it was freaking me out so badly. There's no need for her to touch me, but she kept reaching out and touching my arms and my shoulders. I am NOT A TOUCHY FEELY PERSON! BACK OFF!!! I was yelling this on the inside as I kept scooting further and further from her filthy gross hands and speed pocked face...But alas, she kept stepping closer. What is it with people that they cannot read social clues? Like if someone is backing away or turning away from you, it's probably because they don't want you to be around them!


Okay, so I am not as OCD as I sound. I don't wash my hands 800 hundred times a day with antibacterial soap...Nope, I'm doing much better--I'm down to 478 times a day. (It has to be a round number!) Seriously though, why must people touch others? I don't want to hold hands with little Hurricane at night to pray because the kid literally puts her hand in her mouth before reaching out to me. I think Phoenix pays her in McDonald's chicken tenders for doing this. I don't want to hold hands with Sir Complains A Lot because she has a couple of warts on her hands. I don't want to touch Phoenix's hands because she scratches her butt all the time! Hahahahaha!! Just kidding about the last part...Or was I? Bwahahahaha!


So, I suppose I should stop ranting, but really...People are yucky. That's it for me tonight! Peace out!

Opinions are like...

Recently I've come to realize that just because you have an opinion, doesn't mean you need to share it. I mean, yes, it's a free country and you can share it, but is it always necessary? I guess I've been thinking about this because of all the shit that's been going on on Facebook...I know, it's a public forum and if you share something, then everyone you've "friended" has the right to say whatever they think or feel, but stop and think about this--Are these things you'd say to someone's face? Probably not. People feel empowered and bad-ass behind their keyboards. It's like a feeling of invincibility--"I'll say whatever the fuck I want, consequences be damned!" I'm not saying not to share, but, fuck, people...Stop and think before you type. Like the spoken word, once it's out there, it's out there and you can't take it back and words cut like a knife.


Some of you may have witnessed the complete meltdown of a person I may have once called friend. Not anymore and now that I think about, not for a long time. Some people come into our lives as guest stars for an episode and then they are gone and that's okay...When they come back, trying to make another appearance is when things start to get messy. This person went totally postal over a post I had put about how it was national coming out day and no one had posted it. Mind you, I know people who go out of their way to post what "day" it is all the time. Who cares if it's National Ice Cream Day? Unless Ben and Jerry's is handing out free cartons of Phish Food or Everything But The... or Coffee Heath Bar, I'm not interested. I was kidding and apparently, some people who know me don't know me very well and completely missed the sarcasm behind my words. Perhaps next time, I'll make sure to put a smiley face or "lol" after what I type. Perhaps I should put *sarcasm* at the end of my posts so that morons know I'm kidding. *shrugs* Whatever. So, this person went off and even went so far as to say "You chose this lifestyle." Yup, I chose to be a fucking lesbian. *rolls eyes* That's like saying someone chose to be black or tall or short or freckled. Nothing against anyone being black or tall or short or freckled, but these aren't choices people make. Trust me, I tried to be straight and I was miserable. If you have a problem with my gay lifestyle, then get to stepping. In fact, if you think it's a "choice", then by all means, don't let the door hit you where the good Lord split you. *grins* Anyway, so this person felt the need to follow up her comments on my posting with an email that seemed to have very little to do with my post, telling me I should be grateful for the things I have and blah, blah, blah. I never said I wasn't thankful. I am thankful. I'm thankful that I am a hard-working individual who goes after what I want. It may take me a while to get where I want to be, but I'll get there...eventually. And it'll be a bumpy ride getting there, but I'll get there. I don't need people in my life who are going to talk shit to me though...If I wanted that, I know of some people to go to...like Phoenix. Bwahahaha!! Just kidding, you know I love you, Phoenix! But I digress...When I wrote back to said whack job, I let loose. No way in hell was I going to let crazy get away with her shit talking and since we weren't in a "public forum" anymore, I seriously laid into her. How dare she say I chose my lifestyle! Perhaps I was a little mean...Well, not mean...More like honest. I didn't stoop to her level and talk mad shit like I could've. (And all the things I wrote, I would've said to her face.) After saying I was done with the conversation and that I was happy for us to just go our separate ways, she wrote back saying that I was being hateful and that I've changed so much that I'm barely recognizable. Ummm...No, I don't agree with that. I didn't write back. And of course, in a true act of maturity, she unfriended me and blocked me. Ahhh...Facebook, I love you. Only in cyber space can people actually click a button to unfriend someone and then block them from having further contact with you. *shrugs* Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say.


It made me laugh though that she had the balls (Remember, everyone is bad ass behind their keyboard!) to say I've changed so much. I haven't changed that much...I'm still the same sarcastic bitch I've always been...Only now, I don't let people walk over me and for the first time in my life, despite all the bumps and bruises and setbacks, I'm happy. I love my girlfriend. I love my house. I love my new truck. I don't love all the bullshit that goes on around me and I don't love that my job exposes me to jerks daily, but I love that my job allows me to make good money and has great benefits. So yeah, apparently, because I'm not that scared little teenager that helped people whenever possible and then let them treat her like shit, I'm now a hateful person. Whatever. *rolls eyes* I am better off now than I ever have been before and I don't need dumbass people trying to hold me back. Misery loves company...And to that, I say, go find company somewhere else.


Of course, I am not above stooping a little to someone's level...When I found that she hadn't deleted Phoenix, I got on Phoenix's page and posted this picture:





Then I unfriended her and blocked her. I know, I know...So immature, but Phoenix wanted to unfriend and block her anyway, so I was helping. *laughs wildly* C'mon, she had it coming!! It's funny though, because she's friends with my mom and sister and the picture was immediately taken down. Some people just can't take a joke...Bwahahahaha!


Anyway, so the point of this blog is not to show that sometimes I can be goaded into an argument, no matter how immature, but to say maybe just because you have an opinion, doesn't mean that you need to share it. I read all sorts of posts from people I care about, but which sometimes make me think, "Are you fucking kidding me with this?" or "Dude, pull your head out of your ass!" or "You're such a bitch sometimes!" (Hahaha...I first typed "Butch" instead of "Bitch". That would take on a whole new meaning. lol) I don't say these things though because they are passing thoughts and it wouldn't be nice. Sure, I'll talk smack like anyone else I know, but sometimes, it's okay to keep your opinion to yourself...Especially since I guarantee that you don't want me to share all my opinions with you. Well, some of you would like that, but others, not so much. Just remember folks, opinions are like assholes-- everyone's got one.

Life is too short...

I think that some people were created to work in the corporate world...Like people who are okay working in a little box and talking to angry people all day, making a profit for a big nameless/faceless boss who reaps the benefits of our slave work. I, yes I, am NOT one of these people. I am not okay with not being allowed to be myself and I am not okay with kissing people's asses when in reality someone should be telling them to own up to their fucking mistakes. Dude, it's not my fault you're a fucking idiot who cannot read their billing statement. People always bitch because the bill separates their charges from payments and credits? We changed that over a year ago...Get the fuck over it! *sigh* But I digress...It's just crazy. Like I don't know how so many of these people go in day after day and they're okay with it. I am not okay! This is not for me! I should not be tied to a fucking phone all day! I don't know how to handle people...Like sometimes I'm just at a loss. Today I had a guy call in and he was like, "I need all my statements from 2010." I said he could get them off the internet and they'll download in 24 hours. He says, "No, I need them RIGHT NOW! It's for my taxes." Umm...If you got an extension, you knew this was coming up. If you're being audited, again, you knew this shit was coming. I said, "I'm sorry. It takes 24 hours to download. If I send them, it'll be 7-10 days." This only pissed him off more. "But I'm a platinum card holder! It's your job to make me happy!" Ummm...No, no it's not, fucker. It's not my job to make anyone happy except maybe my boss. When I told him that I was sorry and that there was nothing I could do, he just yelled at me more, calling me an idiot. I'm an idiot because I am not bending to his every whim. What was I supposed to do, wave my Harry Potter wand and make his statements appear before him? Fuck him, I say! In the end, he had to get them off the internet. Fucking idiot. As my co-worker told me (And she heard it from someone else), "Your lack of planning does not constitute an emergency for me." Or something like that...Like it totally makes sense though. Sure, you may be all worked up, but it's not really my fault and you're being a jackass to me because you can't be mean to yourself for being a fucking idiot!! I just realized I've said fuck like a billion times so far...Yeah, well, fuck it...Whatever. lol


Anyway, with all this sort of shit going on, on Saturday I got a call from my mom while I was at work. She immediately texted me to ask if I was at work. I said yes and asked what was going on...Then, as an after thought, I asked about her friend who'd been battling cancer..."Is Leslie okay?" I don't know why, but I did...She wasn't okay. Leslie had passed away earlier that morning. This was a woman who was my mom's best friend for like 22 years. They met as room mom's or PTA ladies or something and became instant friends. For a few years, while I was a teenager, we went to Lake Diaz every year for family camping trips. This was a fun-loving lady who played some of the craziest pranks and was always down for a crazy ass water fight. I remember her sending one of her sons on one of the trips to grab the book I was reading from my hands and before I could even yell, "Hey!" and chase him, she was chucking water balloons at me. WHAM! I was hit! She was the same one who totally pranked her and my mom's other friend, and older woman who made Bea Arthur look like a dainty woman. On one of our trips to Lake Diaz, this other woman and her family came along. This woman was a smoker (This was years before I every became a smoker.) and Leslie bought some of those little firecracker things you put in cigarettes to make them blow up...Not blow up like in the cartoons, like a Bugs Bunny exploding cigar, but they popped...So, Leslie made us distract the woman so that her smokes could be taken (And she was a chain-smoker who usually had 1-2 packs opened.) and loaded. She didn't load every cigarette...No, there was a method to her madness. She loaded like five smokes in the pack so that she'd get a good smoke, then a popping one, then another that was fine. At first, this woman was clueless, but when she realized that to many smokes were blowing up, she was pissed! Oh man, it was priceless! Like seriously! It was great! No one fucked with this lady, but Leslie and my mom fucked with her all the time. They even once glued a bunch of her shit to her desk for the PTA because she was getting all crazy about people taking her pencils and stuff...I guess no one could take her stuff then, huh? BWahahahaha!! But she wasn't all pranks...She was an amazing woman who was always looking out for everyone. I remember when I was fifteen and was recovering from bronchial pneumonia, she came by a couple of times to "kidnap" me. She took me with her to see a movie and to lunch. Usually, on Fridays, she had someone cover her daycare (Like an assistant who came in) and she'd spend the day alone, but a few times she came by to get me because she knew I was going stir crazy at home. To this day, when I see The Brady Bunch movie or people mention it, I think of her because she was excited to see it and it was so lame it was funny! But she didn't have to pick me up. Who wants to hang out with a 15 year old girl recovering from a major sickness? Normally, she went to the movies alone and she's the reason that I can go to the movies alone...I know it's okay to go alone. Not many people are okay with that, but I am. She was awesome! And even right now, it's hard not to cry.


So, there I was at work on Saturday when I got the text and the tears were immediate. I couldn't even try to hold them back. I went to a supervisor and asked for a few minutes off the phones so I could compose myself, but there was little I could do to make it stop. I was just sitting there remembering all the crazy things about this woman...She was so strong. She was hilarious. She was so many things and she was my mom's friend, but she was one of those people who shaped my life in little ways no one really thinks of. It just sucks. I imagine if I'm hurting like this, how do her kids feel? How about her husband? I can't even imagine. We all knew she had cancer again (She'd had breast cancer before and was in remission.) and that it was terminal, but we thought there'd be more time...Apparently, there's never enough time. It just sucks. After fifteen or so minutes off the phone at work, I had to get back on and there I was, crying between calls. I just couldn't stop the tears. I'm not a crier. I don't fucking cry and yet, here I am again, with tears. I never got to say goodbye, but I'm sure she knew I loved her, despite the fact that she was oftentimes a butthead and that's what I always called her and she called me, "Red" for...well, for various reasons. I'll never forget her and I hope that when I have kids of my own, I can pass along the love of pranks and good jokes that she taught me even though I'm not her kid. I love you, Leslie. I hope you're in a better place and out of pain.


Yeah, it sucks to get this news and be stuck at work where you have to deal with assholes and all I wanted to do was yell, "You're pissed because you got hit with a three dollar interest charge? Are you fucking kidding me?? My mom's friend died today, you ass monkey! She had cancer and died! And you're bugging me about three fucking dollars!? Fuck you!" Of course, I can't say that...Instead, I take off the charge and wipe my tears. Then on Sunday, after not really sleeping, I got to spend half the day with the kids who weren't behaving. Even yesterday, I could've cried on cue. I don't know how people deal with this...Phoenix told me yesterday that it's amazing how much this is affecting me and that I'm blessed to have lost so few people in my life. She wasn't being bitchy, despite how the comment came out, but she's right. I haven't lost a lot of people in my life and I'm really lucky in that aspect...Of course, her family is like 10 times the size of mine, so there's a lot more people and a lot more older people, which sucks...Not that this is a contest. I think she's just surprised to see me cry about this. As I said, I'm not a crier. But yeah...This whole thing has made me realize that I need to do what makes me happy...And what the fuck kind of company lets a worker work who's crying? C'mon...I know the supervisor I went to was the nicest one available and I honestly love that lady because she's super cool and I know she did what she could, but still...It's time to move on. I need something that makes me happy and that means something to me...Life is too short...

Friday night lights...

So, for those of you who have me as a friend on Facebook, you've probably been waiting for my blog on what happened on Friday...*sighs* Well, here we go. Friday was such a fucked up day. Seriously.


Friday morning we got up early and took the kids to daycare so we could go to a meeting with cps, the kids' therapist, and their mom. Well, it wasn't as easy as just driving across town to drop the kids off. No, the freeway was closed, so all the side streets were slammed with traffic. There had been an officer involved shooting, so the freeway was completely shut down for a few miles. It sucks for those involved, but also for those of us who weren't expecting it to take over an hour to drive 25 miles. We were way late for the meeting, but whatever. I'm glad I only had to spend a little over an hour with the kids' crazy mom instead of two full hours. I met her the other day and she bugged the crap out of me, but it's whatever, you know? I mean, I don't need to spend time with her. We're not going to be friends. However, at the meeting, I learned how deep her delusions run. She was trying to insist that CPS set her up and it's all defamation of character. Ummm...CPS has it in their file that they found drug paraphernalia at her house. She admitted at a previous meeting that her foot hurts all the time from a car accident she was in over two years ago and she refuses to stop taking Oxycontin or Methadone. She's going to take one or the other. The problem isn't that she takes these...The problem is that she abuses them and doesn't stay coherent enough to take care of her kids. So, at the meeting, no matter what we said about the kids, she turned around to talk about herself. For instance, we brought up that Baby Hurricane talks to something we can't see. (Casper the friendly ghost or imaginary friend, we know not which.) I was telling them about how last Sunday I was sitting watching TV with her when she suddenly looked over and started talking to something and then rolled her ball towards whatever she was talking to. I had thought, "If that ball rolls back, I'm making a run for it!!" Haha. I'm a good caretaker, huh? So, as we tell this story, the mom says, "When I was her age, my sister got shot in a drive-by and I created an imaginary friend. I used to ask where it lived and it told me that it came from the mountains." Are you fucking kidding me? She's a fucking druggie who can't remember the ages of her kids, but she can remember an imaginary friend from when she was two? She has to have her husband write her a list of everything she needs to do each day and include written instructions (with a hand-drawn map) to get to the meeting, but she can remember her imaginary friend? I don't fucking think so! It took everything in me not to tell her to shut the fuck up! I couldn't stand listening to her talk. She looks and acts like a druggie. She bugs the shit out of me. It also came out that when she was preggers with Sir Complains A Lot that she was on speed. Nice. What kind of person does that? I started getting hives and a headache just listening to her. I found myself wondering, "What's a good reason to leave the room? Can I say I have a tummy ache and walk out?" But I knew Phoenix would lay into me after we left if I did that. Haha! I was so glad when the meeting was over. I made a run for it, but then Phoenix stayed behind and talked to the therapist. Since she stayed behind, with the car keys, I was stuck standing outside on the sidewalk waiting for her. This left me vulnerable and here came crazy mom, limping along. She tells me and the CPS worker that she has refractured her foot and the hospital gave her pain meds. Care to guess which type? DING, DING, DING! Oxycontin! Fucking morons!! You'd think that hospital could spot an addict a mile away! Yeah, her kids are never going home again. Finally, she said she had to go see her lawyer, you know because they're going to sue CPS for defamation of character...Is there a law against calling a spade a spade? Because she's a druggie and shouldn't have her kids. I hate CPS, but in this case, they were right in what they did.


After the meeting, Phoenix and I got a break, which was nice, but I knew that that evening I was going to have to see druggie mom and her husband at the high school football game we were going to. Sir Complains A Lot was involved in a cheerleading camp and was going to perform a cheer with the high school cheerleaders. Well, CPS and the dad decided that instead of doing a "visit" on Wednesday, they would have the visit at the football game. *rolls eyes* I knew this was going to be a cluster fuck. The CPS worker said she'd meet us there at 7pm. Well, we got there just before 7pm and the parents were there. The dad is a super nice guy, but he's a puss. If he'd leave the mom, he could have the kids back. Perhaps he likes being a part time dad? I don't know. I'd want my kids, no matter what it took, but that's just me...Anyway, so we go into the game and before we even get in, the mom is already pissing me off. She just doesn't shut up! She has a whiny voice and she was high. Not like stoned on weed, but she'd taken her meds. Surprise, surprise, CPS wasn't there yet. In fact, CPS arrived sometime between 7:30 and 7:40. One would think that if it's her job to monitor the visit, then she should be there, not leaving me and Phoenix to watch the parents inadequately watch their kids. Hurricane was running around and the mom kept calling out to the dad to get her. What the fuck, lady? How about you don't let her get off the bleacher in the first place? We took Hurricane to a football game a few weeks ago and she sat there the whole time. Not once did she play on the stairs, but on Friday, she was all over the place. Fucking idiots. Then the mom is trying to talk to me about how she should get the kids back, asking how we manage Hurricane, and then is all, "You know, if you're ever having feelings or need someone to talk to, you can call me." *blank stare* Umm, what? I wouldn't call this woman if she was the last person on the planet and I was going crazy not talking to anyone. I'd choose insanity over talking to her. No joke. What bugged me the most was that she reached out and put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed my shoulder. Don't fucking touch me, you whack job! Of course, I can't say this because I need to be nice, but whatever. I was sitting there wishing I still smoked so I'd have an excuse to walk away, out of the school, and like across the street to smoke. I'd gladly walk a mile to "smoke" to get away from her. Instead, I sat there, willing my hives to stay at bay and for her to stop touching me. Then she says she's going to go looking for the CPS worker because at that point in time she wasn't there yet. So, off she goes. Phoenix had gone with the dad to change the baby. Finally, I had a break. Apparently, she didn't go looking for CPS--No, she went to her car to pop another pill or do whatever it is she does because she was even more high after that. Dad apparently went to the parking lot looking for her and we're guessing they fought because they weren't the same when they came back. Luckily, CPS showed up and they stayed the hell away from us for awhile. Seriously, I am never going anywhere that woman goes again. She's so whiny and when she's high she speaks incoherently and I just want to strangle her. (I do hope you all know I'm not a violent person...These are just my thoughts and I'd never act on them.) She's also a nagger...Like she nags more than any Jewish woman I've ever met. It boggles my mind. If Phoenix nagged me like this woman nags her husband, I'd be like, "Peace out, yo!" Seriously!


I guess we were only at the game for about 2 hours, but it felt like I'd been there for days. Finally, halftime was over. Sir Complains A Lot did pretty good. I'll give her that. Once it was over, we wanted to go because we had to work early on Saturday. So, we say we need to head out. We all start going out and the mom says she wants to get Sir Complains A Lot a drink because she's thirsty. She wanted to get her a soda to which Phoenix said, "No. They don't put lids on them and it's not going in my car like that." Not to mention, it was 9pm and a 7 year old doesn't need a soda. So, the mom says she's going to get her a water and gets in line. I'm like, "Are you kidding me!?" On the inside...lol. I said nothing out loud. I know when to bite my tongue. I told Phoenix I was going to pull around the car after waiting for a few minutes. Well, as I head out to the parking lot I see the mom hurrying towards the parking lot. WTF? She was just in line for a drink! So, I call out to Phoenix and tell her that the mom is going to the parking lot. Everyone is equally as confused as I am. Now, this woman with the "fractured" foot, wearing flip-flops, is hauling ass out to the parking lot. Like seriously. I walk pretty quickly, but she was going very fast for someone with a "hurt" foot. She was so high, she forgot where she parked. I finally called out to her and she turned around and stared at me for a moment like I was a stranger, then she recognized me. "Oh! Heather! There you are! I was looking all over for you guys!" I said, "What the heck are you talking about? You were supposed to be getting a drink! Why are you out here?" She said, "Oh, they wouldn't take debit." Of course they wouldn't...It's a high school football game, not a fucking Cardinals game! I said, "Well, everyone is coming out. I'm pulling the car up." It took like another fifteen minutes for the mom to hug the kids and kiss them repeatedly before letting us go. Yes, I'm sure it's hard to say bye to your kids, but the longer you drag it out, the worse it is. And she was being so annoying. She was trying to tell me to go through a drive thru to get a drink for Sir Complains A Lot. I told the kid, "We'll get you a drink at home." She was okay with that. I'm telling you, the whole thing was such bullshit. The CPS worker should've been there on time and I never should've had to sit anywhere near that crazy woman! I don't know why they can't do their jobs properly...I'll take care of these kids, but I don't want to deal with the mom...ever. And so help me God, if that woman shows up somewhere high again, I'll fucking call her out on it since no one else will. It's such bullshit! CPS should've told her that she needed to leave on Friday night.


Okay, that's my rant...I need to go iron my work clothes since the CEO and his pals (the dudes who sit on the board of directors) are coming to work on Tuesday. Apparently, they want us to pretend we dress professionally all the time...Sure, I do...if you consider t-shirts and shorts professional!! HAHA! Peace out, folks!

I'm going to throw myself under the bus...

So, this has been a pretty rough year and I have yet to figure out a way to deal with the stresses that keep getting flung my way. I feel like a rubber band being stretched too far...And then stretched a little further...And maybe a little further. I'm barely holding it together. Earlier in the year, I started smoking again. I know a few of you knew, but not many and really, only the people who see me all the time. I felt guilty the whole time I was smoking again. I mean, what kind of jackass goes through the hell of quitting only to go, "Hmm...Maybe I should smoke again?" *raises hand* Me. I do. I'm an idiot. I didn't smoke as much as I used to and it wasn't like before. I mean, it sort of helped me deal with the stress and kept me from wanting to pull my hair out, but I knew I needed to stop. I had considered stopping when we got the house, but then shortly after we got the kids and then the house flooded. Then we were going on a family vacation and I didn't want to be going through withdrawals in Hawaii. Then we got back and my parents came to town. Again, not a good time to be going through withdrawals. So, I waited...


It's been two weeks since I quit again. I still find myself, from time to time, wanting a smoke. Mostly, these times come after listening to Phoenix help Sir Complains A Lot with her spelling words. (I know, some people suck at spelling, but really, "tried" doesn't start with a "ch"!!! How many times do we have to say that!? And when Phoenix tells her to spell it again, she again says, "C...H...I...--" *pulls out hair*) I'm a mean, horrible person. I know. I'm okay with that. I also would like a cigarette after taking phone calls at work. I can't keep doing my job for much longer. I have no idea how to respond to some of the fucking morons I talk to. I had a guy freaking out on me yesterday because he's at his default APR. Well, duh, fuck face, you've been over the limit three times in the last six months and surprise, surprise, you're over the limit AGAIN! No, I can't fix it. No, I cannot promise that it'll be lowered if you pay it down. Then he said, "I'll cancel the account." I said, "Okay, I can cancel it for you." (I love to call their bluffs!) Of course the pussy said, "No! Don't cancel it! I'll keep it open and that payment I just made (It was made three weeks ago.) was the last dime you'll get from me! I'll go bankrupt on it. I don't care! I'm 77 years old! I don't need to pay my *insert my company's name here* bill to get into Heaven!" And then he hung up on me. You know, I'm not the enemy...I'm the messenger. I don't like being killed day in and day out. And won't he be surprised when he gets to Heaven's Gates and finds that without our card, he won't gain entrance? I can't stand being yelled at. I got screamed at by another man the other day because we had sent him a solicitation email. OMG! It's the end of the world as we know it. He literally screamed at me, calling me stupid and an idiot, and telling me he doesn't have time for this bullshit, blah, blah, blah. Mmmmhmmm...Me neither. Of course, he hung up before I could tell him that even though I took him off the list for marketing emails, mail, and phone calls, it can take up to 12 weeks for it to stop. Oh well, fucking idiot. Still, these people make my head ache...badly. And my fingers get itchy for a smoke. I've been good though. Even when Phoenix has told me that it's okay if I give in sometimes...She knows...I haven't been sleeping that great. (Until I discovered Melatonin, which is a God-send. Seriously! I actually got some sleep!) I just feel so on edge and I'm scared I'm going to end up snapping because I always feel stressed out. And the other day I realized how bad it was...


I went to the local grocery store the other night to get something we needed. I somehow ended up with a container of chocolate ice cream too...*shifty eyes* Perhaps I should've opted for the margarita mix instead. Oh well, that's neither here nor there. So, I go to the self-check out and swipe my member card when a man comes stumbling up to me. "Can I help you?" he asks. Me, giving him a sideways dirty look, "No. I'm fine." He says, "We're all humans. Just let me help you." Me, "No, seriously, I'm fine." It was then that I could smell the beer on his breath. Gross. He then says, "Whatever. It's my birthday today." *blank look* "Okay." Him-- "Jesus! You can't even say happy birthday? We're human, you should act like it!" Me, "Happy birthday." (I was trying to ring up my stuff faster and he was just slowing me down.) Him, "Oh sure, now you say something. You know, I don't know why people are so mean to each other. My mom used to call me a little faggot. She used to say, 'You're nothing but a faggot punk!' Can you believe that?" Me- "Must've been rough. Now really, you're in my way. I'm leaving." It was then that he stood in my way and I walked around him to leave. The fucker started to follow me to the parking lot and I immediately got a little scared. I mean, I got robbed all those years ago while working at Pizza Hut and I don't really need to be punched in the face again. As I spun around and glared at the fucker following me and then looked for a manager because they really needed to do something about the drunk fuck bothering people (Mind you, three managers were standing off to the side watching the scene unfold.), I found myself hoping--literally hoping--the fucking bastard would put his hands on me because I would unleash on the mother fucker. Can you believe that? I wanted to hurt him because he was repulsive and bothering me and smelled like beer and I was going to snap. I knew that if he touched me, I would snap and I was hoping he would.


*sigh* He didn't lay a finger on me. The store manager came walking over and I told him, "You'd better watch me walk to my car." He nodded and stood in front of the store, arguing with the drunkard. It was as I got into my car that I realized I need to find a way, and soon, to relieve my stress. I still don't know what to do, but I'm open to suggestions. Everyday when I leave work, I feel like crying and not just from the tension headache I'm normally sporting. Any suggestions? Anyone? Perhaps some kick boxing? I need something before I snap. I'm so scared I'm going to end up going off on someone at work and I need my job. And I guess going back to smoking isn't an option...Especially since I always feel a bit guilty for doing it. Oh yeah...And it's supposedly bad for your health.