So, even though there's a whole lot of shit going on and I shouldn't be writing this, I need to because sometimes writing is the only thing that keeps me going...Plus, I've been thinking about this for like the last week and I just have to know...Have any of you guys heard about this workout thing with the vibrator? Like it does this whole body vibration thing and you lose weight and tighten muscles. Now, from what I understand, you stand on some platform that vibrates. Already, I'm not seeing a down side to this, if you know what I'm saying. I mean, an elliptical machine kills my thighs within a few minutes and makes me wish I had never eaten that piece of German Chocolate Cake when I was ten or that bag of Gummi Bears when I was fifteen, if you get what I'm saying. Suddenly, you're on that machine going, "Oh em gee...I'm a fucking fatty!" and every bad food decision you've ever made is coming to mind and you're kicking yourself. You know what I mean. *nods* Oh you know! But with this vibrating thing...Come on...That can't be bad. Can it?
I heard about this because my sister has been doing it and she's lost some pounds and some inches. She's also doing Weight Watchers though, so that may be part of it. Then my mom tells me she's been doing it and she's lost like four inches and some pounds...Hmm...
So, I decided that I should try it too. Imagine my surprise when Phoenix Googled it to show me that it's a platform you stand on, like this:
And not a "personal massager" like I originally thought...So, girls, it doesn't look like this:
*shifty eyes* Yeah, I knew that all along...I was just kidding...Yeah, so, um...*looks around* I've got to go now.
So, for those of you who aren't on my Facebook or who block all my posts, I spent the last five nights in the hospital with pneumonia. Now, I know many people know me and know how I am when it comes to going to the doctor, so you're probably thinking, "You shouldn't have waited until it turned to pneumonia!" Well, duh. But I didn't wait this time. This actually came on quick...Over the weekend (Not last, but the one before), I had felt short of breath and tired, but I wasn't sick. Then on Monday (January 30th), I went to work as usual and was fine until like 3 or so when I was suddenly freezing to death...Like teeth chattering...can we please start a campfire...when did I move to Alaska kind of cold despite the jeans and long sleeved shirt I had on. A little while after that, I felt like I had been run over by a Mack truck. I left early and came home, heater BLASTING in the truck and found I had a fever of 102.7 (Yes, for my Cali followers, my temp was KISS FM in Los Angeles). That night I started throwing up and coughing. I thought, "I have the flu." On Tuesday, I kept throwing up and then was coughing up blood...That was a bit scary. I went to urgent care and before taking a chest X-ray, the doctor says, "You have pneumonia. I can hear it in your lungs." After the chest X-ray, he says, "You have REALLY bad pneumonia." And he asks how long I've been sick...Umm...Yeah, for a day. So, he tells me if it gets worse, go to the hospital.
Two days later, I was still sick as a dog and Phoenix was like, "I'm taking you to the hospital." Yeah, I was not happy about this. People go to hospitals to give life or lose it. (Have babies or die!) I was not having a child, so no need for me to go to the hospital. But she made me go. I was in the emergency room for like 15 minutes before they're like, "We're admitting you." Say what? The X-ray tech guy was like, "Did they tell you what you have?" I said, "Yes, pneumonia." He said, "REALLY bad!" Weird that he would tell me that. The ER doc came over and asked me how long I'd been sick because it was such bad pneumonia. The hospital doctor who admitted me was asking how long I'd been sick and was stressing how bad the pneumonia was. I just wanted to ask, "Are you sure it's that bad?" Like I could've driven myself to the hospital...I had been taking care of myself. All the doctors seemed surprised too that I looked as good as I did. (Yes, I'm hot...lol No, but I wasn't like on my deathbed.) I just didn't get what all the fuss was because I wasn't dead...Yes, I felt like shit. Yes, I got winded walking more than three steps. Yes, I was coughing up blood. But I was still okay. So, yup, they checked me into the hospital, which I shall call Hotel California Hospital...You can check in, but you can never leave!
The next day, Friday, a lung specialist came to talk to me about the pneumonia because apparently it was bad enough to warrant his expert advice. He asks me if I'm a native here and I said no, I'm not. He said he was worried that my pneumonia, which is apparently only in my right lung, was caused by Valley Fever. Say what? So, I looked up Valley Fever from my phone to see some of the symptoms and do you know what one of the top symptoms is??? I'll tell you--Headaches!! Whoa! I've had headaches for like weeks. The incubation period for Valley Fever is 5-21 days. Well, I had quit smoking and then for weeks I had the headaches and then WHAMO! Pneumonia. We still don't know for sure if it's from the Valley Fever because the lab results aren't in. They told me it would take a couple of days to get them, but then it turned out it takes five. And then today it turns out the lab was out of something they needed for the culture, so they won't even be done until tomorrow evening.
The lung doctor decided that he was going to keep me in the hospital while we waited for the results to make sure he treated me accordingly because my pneumonia is "so bad". *rolls eyes* I was fine! I just needed sleep...But no, I was in the hospital where they wake you up every two hours for random things like breathing treatments, blood tests, vital signs, medication, conga lines, etc...Like I don't get it. If I'm sleeping, let me fucking sleep! But no--they woke me up. For the record, my arms look like I'm an intravenous drug user, no joke. I had to have--count them--five IVs while I was there. The first one went bad after my second day there, so the nurse put another one in, which even she said when she put it in, "Won't last". Well, then don't put it there! But she did...Then I got a third one on my right arm, which lasted about a day and a half before the vein went bad. Then this crazy lady comes to my room at like midnight (I was nearly asleep) to put a new on in and I tell her, "Not my right arm. I'm right handed." Where does she put it? In my right wrist! Like on the inside and tells me, "Don't move your hand." Are you fucking kidding me??? I'm not worried about writing a letter, typing, styling my hair or doing my make-up at that point in time, but without my right hand, I can't even wipe my own ass. I was like, "Gee, thanks." Once she left the room, it crossed my mind to "accidentally" remove it, but I didn't need to. I went to sleep, and within two hours, it came out on its own. The fifth one was done by a guy with an ultrasound machine who put it in no problem. I was happy too that he listened to me when I said, "Not the right arm!" I mean, it's bad enough in hospitals anyway where they have you pee into a container in the toilet so they can measure your output...For a while they had a second container in my toilet and I was like I will hold it until I'm released...I am not having a bowel movement into a container...What is wrong with those people!? I just wanted to get better, not be degraded like that. They make you wear those stupid gowns too. Luckily, no one said a word to me as I ran around in my gown with shorts. *grins* Yup, I had sweats with me the whole time. Expect me to wear a nightgown...bah!
One last quick story about the hospital and then we'll move on to today...So, my first night I was there, the nurse on duty said they were bringing me a bigger bed. I was like "Okay." The bed I had wasn't very big and when I laid down on my back, my feet were against the foot board. The bed didn't show up that night...Or the next day. At 4am on Saturday morning, the nurse comes busting in (Mind you, I've already been woken up for blood and breathing treatments...What's one more disturbance, right?) and says, "Your bed is here!" Apparently, she had to yell at some people and go over people's heads because the bed should've been brought up. Anyway, this very angry looking man comes in with the bed, switches them out, and sets up the new bed. The new bed looks amazing. It's like a giant air mattress. I was excited. (Remember, I was in the hospital...It took little to get me happy. Raspberry Sherbert made me happy while I was in there.) The guy got it all set up and before he made it out of the room, the bed alarm starts going off, which signals if there's a problem. He "fixes it", and then takes off like a bat out of hell. He left because he didn't fix it. He ended up being called back and an hour later he arrived. By then, I was in the bed with my ipod on, ignoring the world. He "fixed" it once more and left, but the alarm kept going off. Finally at like eleven, a different guy shows up and pulls the bed apart and there's a problem with the air mattress, so he switches the bed with another one. I'm still taken aback by the first guy...Like the alarm goes off and you're going to silence the alarm, because that's all he basically did, and then let the sick person spend the day listening to the alarm go off every 30 or so minutes. Really? What kind of sick fuck does that? How lazy do you have to be to do that? I hope that guy gets busted...Fucking bastard...
Last night was my fifth night in the hospital...I was going stir crazy in there. The lung doctor was insisting that we had to have the results before he'd let me go. He was like 99% sure I have Valley Fever because of the way it looks on the X-ray, but he said I couldn't leave. Today though, when it turned out the lab wouldn't have the results until tomorrow evening, he finally caved under the pressure from my nurse! Yay! So, he let's me out with 3 antibiotics and an inhaler. Phoenix's sister in law was nice enough to pick me up so I could make a clean get away. Once I got home, I took a shower in my own shower and then went to Walgreens to get my meds. Here is where all hell broke loose...
I waited like thirty minutes for my meds, wandering aimlessly through the store, and then I go to get them. I pay my $30 for them and then the pharmacist starts to tell me about the meds. She gets to the second one and says, loudly (Like I'm surprised she didn't pick up the fucking intercom thing to announce it to the whole store), "This one is for your yeast infection. Take--" I looked at her confused, "My what?" She replies, "Your yeast infection. Take one tablet twice a day for 14 days." Still, I couldn't comprehend this...I was like, "I have pneumonia. The doctor thinks it might be fungal from Valley Fever." She says, "Oh yeah...Same thing. Yeast doesn't sound as bad as fungal." Oh no?? It sounds worse! There were like 10 people around there and everyone looked up when she said that! Here are my thoughts...A fungal infection makes me think of like mushrooms...like happy little red mushrooms with white polka dots growing away in my lungs...A yeast infection makes me think of a dirty vag. I wanted to tell her, "I don't have a dirty vag! I have mushrooms in my lungs!" Like one is fine, the other is gross!! I don't have a dirty vag, man!! I walked out calling Phoenix, who laughed wildly...*sad face* Come on...Just kick me while I'm down...
Okay, it's not a freakin' letter to my mama, although now I'm sure she's racing over here to see what sort of shit I'm talking about her now. So, since you're here, mom--You're funny looking, smell like cheese, and dance like Natalie Merchant in this video:
Well, mostly like in the beginning of the video. (And why does Natalie sound out of breath? Perhaps she should stop dancing and just freakin' sing!) But I digress...This whole title came about because yesterday I asked Phoenix, "How was work?" She said, "It was nothing to write home to mama about. If you write a blog, you should title it 'A Letter to Mama'." So, here it is. Tonight she reminded me that I needed to use her title, but I couldn't remember it. I asked, "Was it 'Punch yo mama in the face'?" She didn't like that and had to remind me. Ehh, whatever...Punch yo mama, write her a letter...Same difference. *grins*
Yeah, so I don't remember much about work yesterday, except that people are stupid. I got blindsided with a headache. I am not dealing well with these headaches. And once my head starts pounding, the littlest of things makes it worse. Like if you give me an attitude, I feel my temples start to pulsate. Keep it up and I swear that my right eye starts feeling like it's going to twitch. Then, because I am hurting so badly, I have zero patience. I have very little normally, but with the headaches I'm like...Can I be negative patience? If so, then yes, I'm negative patience. I don't know how to make this better, but I think that eventually I'll either get used to them, they'll stop, or they'll kill me. I'm hoping for the former two and not the latter one. But whatever. Today I woke up with my headache still in place. God forbid it left me during the night...Then it might've been a better morning. I decided this morning to be proactive with certain arguments we go through each day. I mostly succeeded along the way fighting with Hurricane. Once we got to daycare, all bets were off. She was yelling and screaming at Mr. Mischief before I even got them out of the car because she cannot stand him beating her to the door and I swear, he has no idea it's a race. So, I'm like, "Oh hell no...Not today!" Okay, this is in my head, not out loud. I don't take her out of the car and put her on the ground--Nope, I hold her. Oh man, she starts screaming like I'm killing her and she's screaming, "NO! NO!" and yelling Mr. Mischief's name. Am I kidding you? Of course not. Then she starts kicking me when she realizes I'm not putting her down and she's freaking out. Finally, I put her down and she thinks she's running. Oh hell no...I held her hand. She was like a wild dog on a chain...Or like that dog going after Foghorn Leghorn who keeps running out the length of his rope and then snapping back. Yup, she ran like three steps and then found her hand still in mine. Ha! By the time we made it to the door, she was screaming, yelling, hootin', and hollerin'...One would've thought I was killing this child, but all I was doing was walking her to the classroom. A few people looked at me and I said, "I'm the devil because I won't let her run ahead. I know. I'm okay with that." lol I don't know why people feel the need to watch. Obviously the kid is a brat. I'm not hurting her. And obviously, she's not my kid--I have purple and black hair and she's blonde with blue eyes. lol I was holding her hand and not even hard, just holding it. I wasn't even dragging her, despite the fact that she was trying to drag her feet. We made it to the classroom without her pushing, shoving, or tripping Mr. Mischief, so I think I succeeded. Wait until she realizes this is going to be a daily thing. Bwahahaha...
So, after winning at daycare, I decided that I would be okay with taking on Texas in a challenge at work. We spent the day racing to see who would have the better call handling times and the most calls in the day. I think we both did really well. Her last update showed she had 107 calls. She gets off work thirty minutes before me because she starts thirty minutes before me. When I left, the thing hadn't updated again, so I don't know where I stand. I had been like 10 calls behind her. I suspect we ended very close. I had been in the lead for most of the day. I kept teasing her that I was going to push a button on her phone so she wouldn't get any calls. Bwahahaha! Oh well. She gained the lead when I had a few stupid calls where I could not get the people off the phone. Here's what I don't get...If you're calling me, bitching to me about some horrible experience, tell me what the hell you want. Don't just leave me guessing. "Oh, I went to Disneyland and it was such a horrible time. One of the employees was so rude about accepting your card." Okay, that's not the experience, but just an example. So, if you're looking for a credit or free reward points or whatever, then fucking say it. I don't know what the hell you want and then there's going to be an awkward silence while I sit there wondering why you're calling me since I don't work at Disneyland. I mean, shouldn't you call Disneyland and ask why their employee was so rude? I mean, I can't imagine calling my credit card company to solve my problem with a place of business...I guess I'm just one of those people who takes matters in my own hands though and doesn't rely on strangers to handle my shit. Oh yeah, and I don't spend my spare time looking for handouts. I'm just sayin'...
So, on a side note (And no, sister of mine, this isn't about you...This is specifically about someone I know. I swear on a stack of Bibles it's not you.), what is with people posting everything on facebook? Like I get it...We all share stuff. Sometimes, we share too much. It's whatever. What I don't get is the people who are like, "I love my life. Everything is awesome!" That's at 8:54am. At 8:57am, another update, "I think I'm going to have a smoothie for breakfast. I love strawberries!" 9am, "I made the best smoothie ever! I put bananas in with the strawberries. Time for yoga! My life rocks! I love God!" (Whoa...Bananas and strawberries...Who would've thunk it? And how fast did you drink that fucking smoothie?) 9:05am "I need someone to do yoga with. Anyone game?" 9:15am, "Fuck my life. Everything is fucked. I'm going to kill myself." (Huh? Bad yoga session?) No updates for like eight hours, then at 5:15 "I love my life. I'm going dancing tonight. " So, for 8 hours everyone is like, "Is she dead?" and "Call me!" Dude, don't be a fucking drama queen. Why are you going to do that? If you go back and read your facebook and your statuses look like this, run to a doctor. Don't walk. Don't dance. RUN! Because you are mother freaking bat shit crazy! I just read these things and shake my head. I don't know what is wrong with people. If you're feeling down, fine, but how in the hell did you go from everything is amazing to "I'm sitting in a warm bath with a razor"? I get it--people have bad days. I know, I have them often. This is what I get for dealing with the public. But if my goes to hell in a hand basket, I will tell you why. Usually, my post is like, "People are stupid! *pounds head into desk*" It's funnier to say that though as "People are stoopid." LOL My boss said that one of her daughters, making fun of the younger sister, wrote "(Insert younger daughter's name here) is stoopid." ROFL! I love it! It makes me laugh. And this, people, is why we shouldn't spell phonetically. OH! Today some stupid (stoopid!) lady thought I was dumb because her bank's name was Dacotah Bank. I was like sounding it out and finally asked, "What's the name of your bank?" She laughed, "Oh, I was trying to figure out what you were saying...It's Dakota Bank." Um, no. It's Dacotah, whatever that spells. Look it up...It's a bank in South Dakota. Apparently, they can't spell...I'm just saying. I'm not stupid! But I digress...Back to the subject at hand. Seriously, people...What the fuck? First of all, I barely have time on some days to put one post, let along one post every few minutes. Second, I'm not sure the world cares that I'm making a smoothie, doing yoga, contemplating suicide, and going dancing all in the same day. This leads me back to something I've said time and again...Just because you have a thought, doesn't mean you need to share it with the world. Unless of course you have a blog like mine and then I will put whatever I want! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! *grins* Seriously though, what did these people do before facebook, twitter, myspace, google+, and all these sites? Where did they get the attention? And are those places still around? If so, they should go there...
Okay, I think that's enough for me. I have a book to finish writing...And really, I have nothing nice to say today. I'm on two weeks of no smokes. Yay me. *rolls eyes* I think I'm going to take up kick boxing or something like that relieve my tension...Or maybe I should get off my fat ass and start using that elliptical machine in my garage...Hmm...Maybe tomorrow. *heads off to write*
Have I mentioned my hatred of Mondays? If not, please allow me to tell you I fucking despise them. No, I would not ban them though because then Tuesdays would suck balls. It was hella busy today and I just wasn't feeling it. Perhaps it's because when I woke the kids up this morning, Hurricane started her nonsense IMMEDIATELY! I have decided that when we have our own kids, from the ages of 2 until they are 19, I don't want to see them...They can go live with grandma or something. I mean, 6am is a bit early to be kicking your foster brother. The moment I got Mr. Mischief out of bed, Hurricane started her shit with him, pushing, kicking, tripping...Like I don't get it. I felt bad for him this morning though because he was like one eye open, a little drool still on the side of his mouth, his hair standing on end, and she's attacking him, to get him out of her way so she can "win". I should change her name to Charlie Sheen since she's so dead set on "winning". And really, she's not "winning" anything. She's just first to get her hair brushed or shoes on or whatever. And I really don't think he even knows there's a competition. CPS has told us that we won't have him for much longer because he's going home to a relative, which will be great for him...Then Hurricane won't be able to harass him anymore...Poor Mr. Mischief.
So, yeah...I knew it was going to be a rough day when I started it off yelling at her to leave him alone. Then I got to work and my first call was escalated to a supervisor. Yup, fabulous Monday. Anyway, so my cubie, who I swear is NEVER at work (I haven't seen her in over two weeks!) was out yet again, so my ex--Texas-- was sitting her in seat and was having an equally fabulous day. I'm glad Giggles wasn't in today, but I feel bad because she was home sick...That just sucks. So, she left me and Texas to our own devices, which is never good. During the day, we spent time between calls talking shit to each other and watching ridiculous videos like this one...
Gross, right? I know...Perhaps I should've warned that my blog is not for the faint of heart? Ehhh...Too late. Moving on...So, yeah, that's what we do between calls at times. Also, she posted this video in chat for the team to see and said something to the effect of, "I think of Heather at 1:25." For any of you who know me, you'll know why...
Who doesn't love Ren and Stimpy? Good to know this is what co-workers think of me. *grins*
The afternoon seemed to drag on and at like 5:30 or so, I realized that Texas was wearing sweatpants. I asked, "Are you seriously wearing sweatpants to work!?" She said, "No! They're yoga pants! Duh!" Ummm...That's like calling a carpet a rug or water agua...It's all the same fucking thing! I reached out and touched the pants. (Don't be thinking I did something inappropriate! I touched down by her ankle where they were baggy!) These so-called "yoga pants" feel stretchy like sweats...And feel like sweat material. Let's just call a spade a spade and move on! I'm not sure yoga pants are acceptable attire for work...I'm just saying. I mean, it's not like she's doing yoga during or between calls!
I'm not sure what the hell Texas and I were talking about, but she was talking to me as I was sending an email about an account and suddenly she said something like, "Porn is the best thing ever created! It's STD free for the viewer." I slowly turned to her and was like, "Did you just say *voice drops to a low whisper* porn is the best thing ever?" She giggles wildly and says, "Yes!" And again points out the lack of STDs for the viewer. Umm...Okay. Be that as it may, I'm still not sure what porn had to do with the price of eggs. Like there's no clear, logical way of how we got to that. I started to call out for Giggles...I needed someone else to share in this session of TMI. This is way more than I needed to know about Texas. Like for reals. A few moments later, we were talking about something with teachers...She was asking if I had ever seen Liar, Liar because there's a part where Jim Carrey says something like, "Here she comes to wreck the day!" I was like, "Yeah, I vaguely remember that part." She says that when she was in school, she had jokingly said that in a class and her teacher laughed, which she thought made the teacher a dork. I defended the teacher saying that it's funny and teachers have it rough. She then told me she was always nice to her teachers, just not the---and here's where I sort of lost it---the curvy ones. I was like, "Say what? Did you just say the curvy ones? Like you hassled the fatties?" Of course, I couldn't stop laughing as I asked this, but I swear that's what I heard! She was like, "NO! The pervy ones!" Ehh...Whatever. Curvy was funnier.
This makes me think of the other day when I was helping some old man pick a user ID for online. I told him he needed to be creative in his choice, but he wasn't getting it. Like, it's not shocker that things like Brooklyn1 or Florida2 are taken. It's also not surprising that the names of our card types are taken. Like let's get creative here. He keeps going on and on with these stupid things and I'm like, "It's taken. Can we try a different number at the end?" And he's like, "No. I like the number 1." I suggested 11 since it's two ones, but he said, "No. I don't like that. And it makes it too long." Are you kidding me!? He thinks for like nearly a minute after trying literally a dozen or more names and he says, "Try freak1." Okay, that's what I heard. When I asked, trying to stifle my giggle, "Did you just say Freak one?" He started laughing so hard and corrects me. It did break the tension after our like 15 minute call about user ids. I probably would've liked him more if he chose that one...Even had it been "Geek1", I would've like him more. But I didn't like him because in his effort to not be creative, he wasted all the time I was supposed to be off early and instead of leaving 20 minutes early, I left at my usual time. Bah! Still...I'm starting to think I need to get my ears checked. Then again, perhaps it's selective hearing...
So, this was my experience of today without focusing on the assholes on the phone...Instead, I gave you a snippet of what it's like between the calls...Sometimes it almost makes the job bearable, but just barely...
I've spent most of the day today writing...Not a blog, but I'm currently rewriting my novel and if I can trust my good buddy's opinion (And in this case, I'm pretty sure I can), then it's coming along much better than the first draft of the book. I had been working on turning it into a play, and whereas that might've worked, it just makes more sense as a book...Or possibly a movie, but a book first. I know, I'm dreaming big. Anyway, I cannot write without music. I can't even write a blog without music. In fact, I can't do much without music playing...Like it has to be there to help me focus. I wish they played music at my work...I think I'd be happier. But again, not the point. As I was writing today, I kept thinking about my day yesterday...Yesterday was such a bad day. By the time I got off work, I just wanted to curl up under my desk and cry. Like I couldn't have taken one more call if I tried without crying. I was just at my wit's end. Two of my work friends--One was the one I heretofore called "Winona", but will be "Giggles" going forward (I said "Giggles" as in a girl who giggles a lot and not "Chuckles" like a scary clown you wake up and find standing over your bed when you thought you were alone!) and the other is my ex-cubie who we shall call "Texas" simply because all my exes live in Texas (haha!)-- were talking about going out after work for dinner, to play the bubble game (It's a fish penny machine) at the casino, or whatever. Part of me wanted to be all, "Me too! Pick me! I'll go too!" But the rest of me felt like after work, I should go home, not out to fuck around, you know? (Phoenix later scolded me and said I should've gone out since I never blow off steam anymore. Good to know.) So, after my bad day, I walked out of work alone, thinking, "This was such a bad fucking day..." when my phone rang. I expected it to be Phoenix, but no, it was one of my best buddies, J-Dawg. That's what I needed--A friendly voice.
I love you, J-dawg. I know you're reading this...Maybe you should skip ahead. lol What I needed was to laugh with my friend last night, but instead, I was a good friend and let her vent about CPS troubles. I love all my friends and no matter how fucked everything is at the time, I will let them vent, talk, whatever they need, but I really needed something more last night. (Do not apologize, J-Dawg! And I'm not putting you on blast, I swear! Do not hate me!) I know she needed to get it out. So, once I pulled in my driveway, I got off the phone with her and talked to Phoenix, who wasn't home yet because she had taken the kids to Chick-Fil-A to eat dinner with her sister and her nieces. (Do not eat at Chick-Fil-A! They donate to anti-gay marriage groups!! Phoenix doesn't care, but I do!) I walked into the darkened, empty house thinking, "This fucking sucks." My head was killing me because I still haven't smoked and I have no release for all the stress I'm carrying around. Usually, on my way home from work, I blast music and rock out because that's like my form of therapy...I didn't do that. I came in, checked my Facebook, then headed upstairs to shower. I turned on Slacker Radio on my phone and turned on the water for a shower. The song that came on was an old Green Day song and I thought of my friends...Well, the people I used to hang out with in California. They're all still my friends, but I never see them anymore and hanging out with them isn't the same. You really can't go home again because nothing is the same. I'm sure it's me who's changed and not them, but it's not like it used to be. These thoughts only made my head hurt worse and next thing I knew, I was violently throwing up the nothingness that was in my stomach. Like literally, I had nothing in my stomach, so it was just dry heaves. Good times...
I stayed up late last night writing and whatever because I couldn't sleep. Today, I started writing again and as I listened to my itunes, I kept thinking about my friends. I listen to a lot of songs that make me miss my friends...No matter how much time goes by or how far away we live from each other, I still think about them and the good times...Some of these songs go all the way back to high school...Please, allow me to share a few...(J-Dawg, I hope you're still reading!)
Blink 182- All the Small Things- This makes me think of J-Dawg dancing around all crazy, with her arms straight out, spinning in a circle. I don't know where the hell we were, but she was so crazy and out of control. I have to smile each time I hear the song.
Toby Keith- How Do you Like Me Now? - This makes me think of J-Dawg and another friend of ours. We went to go see Where the Heart Is or something and this song came on while waiting for the movie to start. They both leapt out of their seats and started dancing in the aisle. It was the middle of the afternoon and there wasn't anyone else in with us, but I kept wondering what would happen if someone came. I had to admit that it was pretty freakin' funny though. Good times, for sure.
Dynamite Hack- Boys in the Hood- The first time I heard this song I was pulling into Newport Beach, Ca with a friend I had made while working at Burger King. We spent quite a few afternoons napping on the beach and getting some sun. The song came on the radio, KROQ to be exact, and we were like, "What the hell is this song?" But because it was a bunch of white boys, singing about being gansta, we loved it immediately. Plus, who doesn't like to sing, "I reached back like a pimp and I smacked the hoe!"? lol
The Presidents of the United States of America- Peaches and Lump- These two songs immediately make me think of both my nemesis, The Black Spy, and our good friend, whom I used to call Moron, mostly because her last name is very nearly "Moron". So, I was in school with these two when the above mentioned songs came out and with only a word whispered, "Peaches..." or "Lump" the fucking song would instantly be embedded in our heads. So, for a couple of years, we tormented one another by mentioning these songs. Of course, it never completely stopped because we still randomly text one another or leave messages on Facebook with the lyrics. Haha...Some things never change.
Jewel- Standing Still- I was driving to a catering job with a friend of mine and we were listening to some mixed CD that had this song on it. Whilst we drove, we were eating Nerds Candy (You are what you eat, right?) and I took a swig off the box and filled my mouth with the candy. I chewed them, swallowed them, and then went back to singing my heart out. As I sang, (I think it was this part) "Dooooo youuuuu neeeeeed meeeee--" The sugar suddenly burned my throat. You know that cheap ass Red Punch they sell in those gallon jugs (like milk jugs) at the grocery store that the room mom's always used to buy back when we were kids in elementary school? You'd always take a big swig of that punch thinking it was going to taste like fruit punch or Hawaiian Punch, but that shit burned going down and you'd be making weird noises as it scratched its way down your throat...Or was that just me? *shifty eyes* Moving on...So, there I was, singing my heart out, and WHAM! Sugar burn down my throat. And in mid-note, I'm like, "cchhh-aaaghdjalksonfgoiwen" <~~~I have no clue what that even means. I can't type the weird noise I made. It was like I suddenly started speaking German and was making that guttural noise in my throat. It wasn't pretty. But it was fucking hilarious.
Orgy- Blue Monday- When I hear this song, I remember flying down the 210 freeway with my friend, Vegas, in her Fiero. First of all, those cars are crazy low to the ground and I have no clue how I ever got into and out of her fucking car. I mean, I might as well have been sitting on the fucking ground. I'm just sayin'...Secondly, what the hell kind of car doesn't have a backseat? That's the smallest car I've ever been in. And now they sell those smart cars, which are even smaller. No thanks, I choose not to drive around in a sardine can. But I digress...We were hauling ass down the 210 freeway because this song came on and you just have to drive faster when you hear it. We were rocking out so hard to this song, singing our hearts out, that we didn't notice we were doing like 110mph. HOLY SHIT! 110mph in a deathtrap! A DEATHTRAP, I'M TELLING YOU!! Do you know where we were going in such a hurry? To a fucking coffee house. We weren't even going anywhere important! Who drives that fast to get coffee??? Apparently, the Heathers do. I don't know how I made it to the ripe old age of 32. But to this day, when I hear this song, I feel the need to put the pedal to the metal and just blast this song. Of course, I don't though because I'm a mature woman now...*shifty eyes*
The B-52s- Love Shack- I know that this song should remind me of karaoke with Phoenix's sister, but it doesn't...Well, I mean, yes, but the main memory that comes to mind is driving to the beach with my mom's youngest sister...Fuck, I don't have fake names for all these people! BAH! Anyway, so me and my aunt are driving along and we get stuck in shitty Southern California beach traffic. The air conditioner didn't work in her like 1981 (I don't know the year) Honda something or another. It was this reddish colored square car with a sunroof. I thought, at the ripe old age of like 10, that it was the raddest car ever because of the sunroof. (I was 10, you rat bastard! Stop laughing at me!) So, we had the windows down, the sunroof open, and KROQ blasting. Here comes Love Shack! My aunt turns the music up even louder and we sing our heads off. At some point in time, while we were singing, she starts to dance. She doesn't dance all normal...No, she's like rocking out doing the swim (I don't know the names of these dances, but she was plugging her nose like she was going under water...Dude, again, I was 10. That was 22 years ago, you jerk!) and the mashed potato...Okay, I don't even know what the mashed potato is, beside the food. There she is dancing and I look to the side and am immediately horrified because I was old enough to realize other people would look at us and they were! AAUGH! I was like, "Stop! Don't do that!" My cries fell on deaf ears...She only rocked out more. Looking back, I love her for that...Back then, I was humiliated and I couldn't slip down in my seat enough to avoid the looks from the drivers around us...Hahaha...
John Cougar Mellencamp- Cherry Bomb- (And yes, this was when he was still John Cougar Mellencamp, not just John Mellencamp!) Okay, this is the last one I'll mention. As I started thinking about my friends and their songs, I also started thinking about my family, hence the above one about my aunt. So, this is my mom's jam. She loves this ridiculous song and she dances every time it comes on. My mom can't dance. Mom, I love you, but you can't dance. *grins* I speak the truth, woman. Just listen to me. My mom almost looks like she's doing aerobics when she dances. The memory that comes to mind is back in the house that I grew up in back in Hesperia, Ca. The stereo was on Y102 and this song came on. My mom was in the kitchen cooking dinner or something and I was in the kitchen doing homework. I was probably in my early teens and she stops cooking so she can sing and dance. It must've been early fall or something because it was warm in the house, but we had all the windows open along with both the front and back door. My jackass dad wasn't around and I don't know where my sister and brother were (Maybe outside playing), but my mom was there with me and she was dancing all crazy. I remember thinking that it was obvious that her and her younger sister were related because they both danced like crazy maniacs...lol
So, yeah...Today, I was listening to songs and memories were coming back to me and I realize I really miss my friends. Don't get me wrong...Giggles and Texas are great, but they're about the closest thing I have out here to my buddies back home. I have yet to hang out with them outside of work really, but I get to laugh with them at work and it helps, but sometimes a girl just needs to get the hell out and blow off some steam. So, to all of my old friends reading this, I don't miss your dumbass. You misread this...*grins* C'mon, I haven't gone all sappy...Haha...Okay, maybe I miss you guys a little. I might even miss a few of you who I don't really talk to anymore either. Sometimes growing up sort of sucks as we outgrow those we had called friends back in the day...I suppose we'll always have our memories though, right?
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...
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.
