Fighting Tigers

I chat a lot at work. I chat with people I work with now, people I used to work with, some family, a lot of friends. I chat via Skype, TEAMs, email, text, Whatsap, Zoom…you name it I have a friend I can talk to on that system. No one seems to mind though…..cause I am always happily typing away at my desk. (and watching judge judy…I love me some judge judy)

This morning, while getting ready for work in the world’s smallest bathroom; I SLAMMED my pinky toe into the wall. I am certain it registered at the seismologist station on Mt. Rainier. The feeling that radiated up my leg was worthy of truck stop expletives. I think you could actually see it swelling up.
Guess I am wearing flats today.

I hobbled down the stairs, to the car and then into the office. All while my foot developed a heart beat of its own.

I was able to make it to Fred Meyer, but almost called an Uber for the trip back; and it is just across the parking lot. I took my foot out to let my pinky toe rest against the cold file cabinet under my desk, then struggled to put my shoe back on. It was going to be a rough rest of the day.

About an hour later my homey at the front desk, sent me an IM asking if I wanted join her in a walk to Starbucks. I had to shamefully tell her that I didn’t think I could make it….BUT if she would consider bringing me back one…she would be my favorite. And if any of the baristas ask about me…tell them I hurt myself fighting tigers.

Right then a team member walked by my desk and says……Fighting tigers hu?

OH SNAP! Note to self……keep your chat in a small window on the laptop…and dim!

Do you know where I can find BBQ?

Boss man asked me to get him some lunch. He handed me is VISA and said he wanted a pulled pork sandwich, followed by us both saying “from Dickey’s” at the same time. Grabbed my phone, sunglasses and purse; and headed to the car. I knew right where I was going. I have never eaten at Dickey’s, nor would I…I do not like BBQ. But I had heard great things about this place from my dad’s side kick, so it made perfect sense that the boss man would be craving the best BBQ on the east side.

I pulled into the smallest driveway,found the one spot left; and followed all the signs to the correct door. I walked into a room resembling an office AND cafeteria. From way behind the counter an old lady, with no teeth said something I wasn’t able to make out. When I didn’t respond she said it a little louder. “all I gots are some little chicken pieces”. To which I replied “Hi! I was hoping to order a pulled pork sandwich”. “Naw. That won’t be ready before dinner.” She said. I simply turned and walked out. I wasn’t 100% sure this was even a restaurant and I wanted out of here before I caught something. I Googled BBQ, hit up a place not too far down the road and headed back to the office.

Delivered the Sammie , returned cc and put a pile of napkins on his desk; then went back to what I was doing before my marching orders.

When Hubz came home I was telling him about my lunchtime adventures. I told him how the driveway to Dickey’s is hidden making it kinda hard to find. Hubz looked at me like I had three eyes and says “I guess. There are a lot of stores in that little place.”

Wait! …. What?

He told me that Dickey’s is in the shopping center across from MOD pizza. He was right. So if that was Dickey’s…..where did I go?

After we stopped laughing we got out our respective devices and looked it up. I went to DIXIE’S! Dickeys is actually, figuratively and literally around the corner from the office. Dixie’s is 5 times as far and where I got the sandwich…another two times the distance. JD asked me if boss man said anything about how long it took for me to get lunch. I said with a straight face…NO! He was so happy to get the food he didn’t care. Hubz : “he was probably STARVING!”

What makes this hysterical is….it’s not the first time this has happened. I have ended up at the wrong restaurant on more than one location; though in my defense it was the correct genre. Different name…same fare.

Squirrel!

Because I FOR SURE learned my lesson about talking shit on line….I am very careful about what I post.

I want to write about the onboarding experiences from the past few gigs. How HR departments, as a whole, no matter where you work…need help ASAP. Or the fact that I have been fired for silly/insignificant and even made up reasons; but the summer intern gets to sleep at his desk. The errands I am asked to run, the people I am forced to work with and the volumes of inept customer service representatives I encounter on a daily….it is HILARIOUS. I’d love to tell you all about it….but the crybabies that wind up in my post, have ZERO sense of humor. So…I email those.

Last night got a text from Snow twin, who tried to make me feel like I had a foot in the grave; by sending a picture of her son enjoying his first legal beer. I helped make the birth announcements for this kid….there is NO WAY HE IS 21!! I shared my thoughts on her planning a trip to the lower 48 so we could spend the day at the spa celebrating her new empty nest. Told her to read about it in the Saturday of No Standing post. She replied that I am hysterical (which I of course already knew) and needed to write more. I was like….I write all the damn time! Just can’t post it 😊

I got to work this morning and I remembered that I wanted to send Snow Twin a secret posts. Hummmmm where did I put those? I checked my usual emails and didn’t see them. I needed to log into a third email, and in order to do that I had to figure out the password. Scrolling through my phone I was able to find it and log in; that is when I noticed an email about something Ama and I had been working on. I checked the Spy cam , saw she was up on the farm, and gave her a call. After that I noticed I was accepted into the elite world of GlamBags….and read all the emails about that. Then I cleaned out the inbox and logged out.

I checked my desk top again and then the recycle/deleted folder and found what I was looking for. I also found, I accidently deleted two perfectly good posts; and wanted to get them closer to publishing. In order to do that I needed to log into the blog…what are those credentials? Surfing through my texts, for the string I keep my username and passwords on, I began to delete texts I no longer needed to keep. Found the one I was looking for and logged in. I prepped two posts, logged out, updated my calendar and signed back on to the desk top.

Found the dirty little secrets and got them ready to send, oh wait…I need her email address. I picked up the phone to send her a request for best contact details, when I saw a note from my SoCal boy toy. Awe “hey boo hey” I replied and set off to refill my caffeinated beverage. On the way back to my desk I got dragged into a meeting, and didn’t make it back to my desk until 30 minutes later. Looked at my phone and it opened to the pic of Snow Twins mini man…..Oh yeah THAT’S is what I was doing!

It is a wonder how I make it through the day with this attention span.

Introductions Please…..

I try hard to hide the identities best I can in my posts, to protect the innocent. Sometimes people don’t want me to air their dirty/interesting laundry…sometimes I don’t want them to know I am talking shit 😊

Charlie – I was introduced to Charlie during the bridal celebrations of a mutual friend. She was a lot of fun to hang out with, so I leapt at the opportunity to work with her later on that year. She was also owned her own business which is named after her favorite kitten….Charlie. I haven’t seen Charlie in a while. She is living her new life, doing her own thing and we aren’t that close any more. Reason…season…lifetime type of thing.

Snow Twin – My sister met Snow twin waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back in the day, when she as in beauty school. They were roommates a while, before shit hit the fan; but after the split split, we stayed in touch. She would buy me alcohol for our house parties, did my nails in trade and was a sort of surrogate “big sister”…We have a lot in common. We remained close even after she got married and left for her new life in Alaska. I designed the birth announcements for her first child and later helped potty train him via long distance. I just love her!

Saggy Face, Child Bride, So Busy and Octo-mom were all “professionals” I worked with at Coldwell Banker Bain & Associates back in 2010. Their behavior is how I came up with their code names, and yes I realize they aren’t the kindest. The descriptions were so spot on, they whined to HR and I was fired… man I hated that job!

Scrappy – a girlfriend of mine, who I swear had the roughest childhood. She had a less than steady upbringing, emancipated herself at 15, supported herself and managed to make it out of the slums and into a very posh life. But don’t let the raised pinky fool you….she will shank you the moment she even THINKS you are fucking with someone she loves. I HEART Scrappy!!

I Rock Spandex – She was a bicyclist I met in line at a concert.

Mini Me – is my niece who used to love me, until she turned 10.

Rents – My parents

Hubz – The most amazing man on the planet.

And now there is someone I’d like you to meet. My Fireball of Faith. A family member I would have never met, if it was left up to my husband…Thankfully his uncle made the introduction. I have met just a handful of people who trust in the Lord like Fireball. One was my sisters mother in law, the other is my 5th grade teacher and now this bundle of faith. She reminds us of Gods love through mail, family meals and just good ol fashioned hugs and kisses. There is no one quite like her, and I am blessed to call her family.

She is currently fighting a tough cancer battle. No matter what your religious background is, please take a moment to send a kind thought her way, she tells me God will take care of the rest 😊

The Saturday of No Standing

MOMMY was about loose her mind and we needed a day at the naked lady spa STAT! Unfortunately, because God hates us, our first attempt was thwarted by Aunt Flow with the red hair. We drowned our sorrows in a plate of Hawaiian fried rice then made appointments further on in the month; and THAT day had arrived.

It was 9 am! The doors had just opened and we were checking in. It is called the naked lady spa for a reason…. clothing is not an option in the bath house. Everyone is issued a towel, robe and cloth hair bonnet, identical hospital attire. There are doors on the toilet stalls…..and that’s about it. You gotta be REAL comfortable with yourself if you want in on this action.

Outside of the bath house are meditation and relaxation areas. AKA nap rooms. They are all at different temperatures, textures and sleeping arrangements. They have LuvSac’s,sand pillows,foot rests,head rests, blankets and just about anything else you would imagine curling up on or with. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH mazing.

For my “Sparkle package” it was required that I soak for at least 30 minutes in the hot tubs prior to the first service. Who would ever object to an appointment that started off with a soak in a hot tub? MOMMY and I soaked until “Tami” came for me at 10am; and we made plans to meet up at noon for lunch. OH yeah…. there is a tea room and café on site. I mean once get naked…you don’t have to get dressed again until you are ready to leave.

My first service was a body scrub. This involves naked me, atop a naugahyde “bed” and Tami in lufa mitts. Oh yeah! Shits about to go down. Face up, down and a stint on each side…she was getting all the spots. There wasn’t a dead skin cell that stood a chance against her tiny frame, black two piece and those magical orange gloves. In between each scrubbing pass she scooped up hot water and threw it on me; like when they are trying to keep sea animals wet during transport. There are 12 other ladies of various body shapes and sizes having the exact same experience so you just go with it. After the scrub, I was washed off with the softest lather you have ever felt; applied with what had to be angel wings because it is so fucking soft. Followed by one more round of warm water dosing and I was done. Took a hot steam after than then a long shower with their dreamy bath products. I put back on my asylum-gear and made my way to the other areas.

Despite barely being able to hold myself upright, I managed to make it to the meditation room. It was 80 degrees, had a huge LuvSac in the middle of the floor and a smattering of other soft things to lay on. I flopped right on the sac and passed out. Not the same kind of passing out as 2:30 am after girl’s night; more like a deep rest where you can hear what is going on around you, but you cannot feel your body. I laid there thinking, that maybe noon was too early for lunch…and hour later I woke up ready to tear into a plate of Korean Street Tacos! I wiped the drool off the side of my face, adjusted my pink and white bonnet and left to meet up with MOMMY.

After lunch we decided to do a bit more soaking. MOMMY was going to take a hot shower while I checked out the dry sauna. My next appointment was a mani/pedi, so I needed to be in a drier state. I went back to the other areas and flopped on the chez part of the waiting couch for my next provider to call my name. I was fed tea and sea salted caramels while the toes were twinkled and phalanges buffed in true spa fashion. Then of course back to the nap room to ensure that they are good and dry before attempting to get dressed.

An hour later I rolled over, opened one eye and said to MOMMY… “It’s almost 4. We might want to consider heading home.

I made it home and straight to the couch, heated the other half of my fried rice up from breakfast and turned the TV to Law & Order – SVU. Then waited for Hubz to come home and take me to Baskin & Robbins. It was a ROUGH day…but I feel so soft! Thank Goodness tomorrow is Sunday and I can sleep in 😊

How the curling iron stole my birthday

I bought the 1983’s thriller Christine version of a curling iron. I have burnt my shoulder, ears, cheeks, forehead, breasts and belly. You read right….belly. Doesn’t matter that said belly is 2 feet from any hair long enough to curl….I have burned it. I have also been known to burn my belly on a cookie sheet , hot out of the oven. What can I say? I have a thing for being topless when something hot is around. Now that you think of it….this does shed some light on my past dating life. Hmmmm Let’s continue with the original culprit…the curling iron.

Since I have done this more than a dozen times, the lecture from Hubz gets longer and longer each time. First it is…Oh my sweet! Does it hurt? Do you need me to get you to a hospital for proper dressing? Then right into the hilarity of the number of times we have had this same conversation. In between those two points is the decision of whether it is going to leave a scar, like the others and a recap of where the others came from. I have tried to cover them with hair and nightgowns, but they are eventually spotted so it is just better to face the music and get over it.

This was no different, in an attempt to straighten my hair while still softly curling the tips, I pulled a little too tight. When it reached the end of the hair, it SSSST (that is the sound of hot flesh on a 1” diameter Conair ) touched to titty. NO NO NO NO I said. Not again. Grabbed a cold towel, got an ice cube and even some Neosporin. I would have used peanut bitter or bacon grease, if you would have told me it might work. NOTHING is worse the shit I was going to get. Couldn’t escape…he saw it. I heard about it. We moved on.

Skip ahead 3 days to my birthday. I made plans over a month ago to spend the day at an all women’s, clothing not an option wellness spa. On the day of your birthday it is 50% off the admission, so for $27, I was going to enjoy steam rooms, saunas, float pods, whirlpools for as long as my raisening fingers and toes could stand. Woke up, had some coffee, nailed a phone interview and called the spa to double check the birthday discount and any time restrictions. At the end of the call, they gave their standard disclaimer schpeel:

Discount only good on the day of your birthday
All guests must be 18 years or older.
No garments, menstruating women or open wounds are allowed in any of the pools

Shit! The tell will have been my inability to get naked without doing the pledge of allegiance.

FML!

Hubz came home with a flat iron. I tried to tell him that it had nothing to do with the product…it was user error. He agreed but thought it would be easier to start with a tool that wasn’t so thirsty for blood.

Pay No Mind to the Panties on the Floor!

Last night was the company holiday party. I went all out and even wore actual NYLONS under my dress. My summer tan had officially faded and if I wanted to enjoy any of the outside activities…I was going to need all the protection from the cold I could get. My body style isn’t conducive to nylons; which is why I never wear the fuckers. My thighs rub together, creating so much friction that it causes third degree burns from the heat. I was going to chafe on my way out to the Uber.

Wait! This summer my new friend Jean told me about these chub rub guards. I slipped one up each leg and was given immediate relief. AMAZING. I put on my ruby red Wizard of Oz heals and dashed off to the event. I even wore coordinating necklace and earrings. I had been planning since February. I couldn’t wait to get there.

We chartered an Argosy ship to have dinner and ride along the Official Christmas Ship. It’s sort of a big deal in the PNW. This year, I hired a team to over see the catering and entertainment, so I could “attend”. Ya…tell the events and recognition person to sit back and watch. In no time, I was greeting guests and giving the quick layout of the boat as my team mates arrived.

There I was, standing next to the captain, greeting everyone and making my usual jokes and jabs. When out of no where….one of my thigh cozies falls down around my ankle. It was dainty and lacy so it could have easily been a thong…though to fit around me it would have to be six times the circumference. That was my only hope (cause no one seeing it wasn’t an option) please oh please oh please oh please….let these millennials know what a garter is.

With out skipping a beat, I dropped a Santa hat I was passing out on the dock, squatted to pick it up and shimmied it right back up under the dress….and continued on with my schpeel about where to get a drink. God could I have use one.

After that, the only hiccup was the caterer running out of protein, 22 minutes in to the chow line.

I did win an iPad Mini so it wasn’t all bad.