Caterwauling

… and their awesome quotes!

From Scott, with whom I spent several fun hours chatting and drinking and laughing tonight at Tiff’s end-of-job celebration:

“When she walks, her ovaries clang together.” (about a former supervisor)

From Scott again, this time on his pleasure at serving Atkins-friendly food for his friends this coming Friday (and admitting to be a carnivore himself):

I like meat, too. And beef.

From Shawn, who paid homage to me with some blogthoughts that were inspired by my whore-with-a-heart-of-gold posting from a few days back:

“Until someone fucks me good enough that I don’t need to talk about it anymore, I’ll continue to express long soliloquies about sticking and dicking.” (no further need for explanation there!)

From Dave, who was making fun of me when I mistyped something and mistakenly used the letter “F” — I asked him to name three things that begin with F.

Dave: “Felching, Fellating, and do I really need to tell you the third? Feuding.”

And my response: “Oooh, talk dirty to me some more!”

Shan and I feel like hostages here at Club Med (or Club Dead, as she called it today, when she found Solitaire sitting very still as though she were having an out-of-body experience today).

Speaking of out-of-body experiences, I am editing an article on it. Let me put it mildly: just reading it is like experiencing near death.

Had cottage cheese for breakfast and string cheese for lunch. Now I’m going to go get my fix of veggies in our Veggie McManagement Meeting, although I can safely assume that it will be one cheesy meeting. Now, what kind of cheese shall I have for dinner? (dirty suggestions most welcome!)

Till I get back and can bitch to high hell about this pending two-hour meeting, let me treat you to today’s favorite song, by Chantal Kreviazuk:

In this Life.mp3.

It was going to be something even more bitter, like Evanescence, but I’ll only add that by request. 🙂

Update

The vines of the Veggie Patch are unfurling and just plain committing suicide. One resignation (of a prominent member of the Veggie Patch family … I’ve called him Nervous Norman before). One retirement. Six layoffs. All in two days.

Oh, and Demure told me not to work so hard. Now THERE’S a request I am pleased to accommodate! 🙂 Just kidding — it’s that very attitude of “Veg Out” that is threatening to crumble this organization. But perhaps that’s how people manage to survive working 30, 40, 50 years here without having, oh, ambition cloud their senses.

Diet sucks. I’ve been sticking to it, but I think I am actually above my original weight. Bought a scale last night that works, and I don’t like the number I’m seeing. I think it must be broken. Perhaps it will work better if I stand on it on one leg, with the other leg on the floor. 😉

Work blows. In case I have never made that clear. LOL. We’re in dire financial straits; six layoffs and a general malaise and frustration among the management. I’m waiting for them to let the useless people go, but I may never live to see that. McManagement meeting this afternoon … I’ll be curious to hear WTF is going on. I vote that we throw Solitaire, Mouth Almighty, Town Crier and Busybody off the island next. 🙂

Payday isn’t till Monday. I’m broke till then. Was hoping for a Friday pay so I can go put a security deposit on a new apartment — I want to get the rent special before it expires. Hope they will take it Monday. I have too much going on right now to continue searching for homes … my property taxes are due in July, my car/renter’s insurance starts back up in August, etc.

My current apartment management came in yesterday and fixed the list of stuff I’d asked them to fix. Things are working fine, but I hate how maintenance people leave your house a fucking mess after they leave. Um, excuse me, it was tidy when you got there. Do I have “maid service” tattooed on my ass? They totally trashed the house the last time they worked on it, too.

I’m feeling kind of bland today. I’m very much behind in my stories, and Cruise Director just assigned two to me, between yesterday and today. Um, deadline is Thursday, and I won’t crank out more than two stories, tops, this week. Oh well. They want a smaller, crapper paper? They’re getting it.

Everybody wish Tiff a great last day of work! I was going to work late, but fuck it, I’m joining the celebration at Jay’s Saloon & Grille in Clarendon. Save me a burger, guys! I’ll get there eventually. Readers, join the party if you’re so inclined!

Shan totally wowed me with her quote of the day. Apparently there is a little vegetable stand in the parking lot of Landmark Mall. The sign outside of it reads: “Farm-Fresh Vegetables, fresh from the farm.” Shan suggested we modify it and bring it back to work: “Farm-Fresh Veggies: fresh from the Funny Farm.” 🙂

Phone call a few minutes ago:

Caller: “Hi, I’d like to subscribe to the Veggie Patch Gazette.”

Me: “Fine, I’ll connect you with our fulfillment house. It’s $85/year, going up to $89/year on July 1, so I suggest you call this week and get the lower rate.”

Caller: “That’s outrageous!”

Me: “Membership to my association is $150; I think $85 is a fair price for a subscription, which gives you 12 months of 50 to 60 pages of copy. The price is reflective of my printing costs.”

Caller: “Well, forget it. The content sucks anyway.”

Me: “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

Caller: *slams down phone*

Um, thanks for sharing your loving opinion with the editor AND primary writer. Asshat!

While thousands if not millions of people are honoring their fathers today, I’d like to take a moment and wish my own father — hereafter known as “Sperm Donor” — a day so vile that he wants to slit his wrists. And I don’t know that I’d be upset if he did impale himself on a sharp object.

Note that I am 29 and have not had children yet. Note that most, if not all, of the men I’ve dated were probably not suitable daddy material. Note that the ones who WERE good daddy material probably didn’t want to reproduce with ME. 🙂 Now that we’re done taking notes, realize that I haven’t brought any kids into this world for the sheer fact that I didn’t feel like being a single parent.

I didn’t meet my father until I turned 18, when we went to Family Court to close our pathetic child support case (thanks for the $40/month for 18 years, you asshole). That embarrassing monetary amount aside, all I wanted was a daddy. And luckily, my grandfather was a wonderful paternal figure for me, and I don’t know what I would have done without him. But without Sperm Donor, I wouldn’t even be here.

Granted, I know S.D. was 18 when I was born (Mom was 16). But he didn’t believe I was his, and after blood tests and whatnot later, he still thought the tests were wrong. So he stayed out of my life and ended up getting married and having another child by the time I was 3 … a girl named Shannon (yes, same name as my darling friend). He had a boy, Ryan, a couple of years after that.

I never met these half-siblings, nor do I want to. They probably don’t even know about me. And if they were reared by this asshole called S.D., then they are probably assholes just like him.

When I met him, he was undergoing a bitter divorce. The kids were with the wife. I had just graduated 13th in my high school class and was going to journalism school on a scholarship, so I thought he would be proud to get to know this *lost* offspring. Oh boy, was I wrong.

We looked so much alike, it was frightening. Motherfucker gave me all the Irish genetics — same huge round eyes, freckles, mouth, etc. My grandmother told a story around that time how much I resembled him as a baby, too — she couldn’t get over his audacity (or density) in denying that I was his. Little did we know that he would deny me again.

I suppose it would be fair to say that S.D. was the first man to break my heart. After court, we made a date to go out to dinner, which we did and it was fantastic. We giggled and talked and — I thought — bonded. I never saw him again, but I called him from the dorms at least twice a month (although it cost me a fucking arm and a leg, as I used a calling card that was outrageously steep). By the next year, when it was time for me to move back into the dorms, I called to ask him if he could help me move my TV and bookcase (as my grandfather was getting frail and couldn’t help me lift stuff anymore). S.D. said yes. Then he called back five minutes later to not only say no, but to say that he’d had nothing to do with me for my first 18 years, so why start now?

Why.Start.Now.

The words will never leave my mind.

Another phrase out of his rotten mouth that stabbed my heart occurred on that dinner date we had. He was talking about Shannon and Ryan, and I asked him how many kids he had. He said, “Oh, just two.”

Oh.Just.Two.

I didn’t count.

And I never would.

It has been my hope of hopes that Shannon and Ryan left him behind, once the divorce was final. I mean, shit, he was renting a crappy apartment and he had lawn furniture in his living room. Sounded like he was a loser (cripes, I’m poor but at least I have nice stuff!) I’m certain that piddly $40 a month couldn’t possibly have bankrupted him!

A few nights ago, I ran searches on the S.D. and the kids. Not a one of them comes up in any of my queries. I know a lot of people lead anonymous lives, but I have to kind of be proud that, when I ego-surf, I see about a good 25 sites that pertain to me (except for the blog). I was quoted in newspaper articles, I wrote magazine articles and press releases, I was in staff listings and on project teams, I donated money, I was a volunteer coordinator, I was on corporate websites, and I left comments and ideas on party-planning sites. I always hoped one of those blood relatives would search for me, because I’m pretty damn easy to find.

So, to Tom Burke of Brentwood, Pittsburgh, Pa., today I wish you a royal FUCK YOU and thank the lord above for my fabulous mom, grandmother and grandfather for raising me in their family. I am certain that I was better off where I was, and I am certain that I am a better person because of it. How I wished for you to love me as your firstborn daughter; now I hope that someday, you will read my name or see it in lights and wish for just one moment that you would have given two shits about me. Because I won’t even be able to give that about you.

Rot in hell, bastard.

But I do wish a Happy Father’s Day to my grandfather and to all the loving and present dads, uncles and granddads out there who took the responsibility and pleasure of being a hero in the eyes of a child. I only hope that when I do finally have children, I will have a man in my life just like the caring souls out there who are being honored by their families today.

Okay, kids, for those of you who actually BET that I would have gone to the gym today, YOU LOSE!!! Hee hee. I went to Starfucks, to the park, called my mom, listened to CDs and went shopping to the tune of several hundred dollars (although there are some gifts mixed in there too). 😉 Went for a drive, too. Long but good day.

I meant to turn in an apartment application today, but as they wanted to know everything but my blood type and preferred brand of tampon, I put that off till tonight so that I can get somewhat-accurate answers. I bought lots of new bathroom stuff, including a scale. EEEEEKKK!!! Those fuckers are expensive, and not one matches my decor, so I bought a mid-price one (Update: the fucker doesn’t work. Damn electronics!). I also ended up with two lamps, to complement the artwork and table that I bought at IKEA yesterday.

At some point, it might occur to me to save money for my move, but nah. Next paycheck I’ll start. 😉 Never miss a sale today when you can sit home tomorrow!

I hated being dressed in gym clothes today. Don’t get me wrong — I was comfortable, but boys just don’t look at you when you look like shit. But at least my feet aren’t hurting, so that’s a good thing, I suppose. 😉

I look like a fool.

I’m dressed in workout clothes (not sure if I actually WILL work out, as I have a dozen errands to accomplish today), but hey, I’ve read that half the battle is actually getting dressed. I figure at some point, I’ll just have to move. 🙂 But be it known that I would MUCH rather be in a frilly peasant top and a skirt of my choosing right now. And sandals in favor of sneakers. I am not a sneaker girl. Shoes are supposed to flatter your legs, not make your feet look like hoagies with shoelaces.

But I am the idiot who, just because she’s in a T-shirt and shorts, doesn’t mean she’s going to look like a total frump. The hair is done. Jewelry is on. Makeup is next. Some sort of scented body spray (warm vanilla sugar and eucalyptus-spearmint are my splashes of choice) is next. My outfit screams slob, my demanor screams kill me … but my attention to all those fussy little details screams, hopefully, I’m a lady, damn it! 😉

I’m out of ketosis. 🙁 Next step, I’m told, is to eliminate cheese from the diet for two days. This shit is killing me! Things have changed during the past few years … I now also have to eliminate caffeine and nicotine (oh, yeah, can’t wait to see THAT). Perhaps I will just reduce them. But for now, I am taking my Camel Lights to Starfucks for a venti ANYTHING with caffeine!

According to The Biggest Losers in the Blogosphere, I have lost 5 percent of my goal weight to lose so far. I set my goals high, actually, so this, my friends, is progress.

I went against my instinct and stepped on a scale this evening. Down 3 pounds! Woo hoo! I celebrated with dinner with Shawn at Famous Dave’s in Potomac Mills. I cheated a bit and had barbecue sauce, but damn it, it’s unavoidable in a barbecue joint!

I have a screaming headache. And I’ve had raging car sickness for two days, too. Just a price I’m going to have to pay as my body learns to live without carbs. I can’t wait for my diet induction period to be over, but the progress will be well worth it, I hope!

Saw some apartments today with Shawn. Found a place that’s relatively big and is only $800/month. The other place we saw jacked up their prices more than $200 since I got a quote on 1BRs, so even though it’s a great place, I can’t afford the $980 they now want. I do NOT want to pay for pools and fitness centers that I will never use, nor do I want to sit on Little River Turnpike traffic to get to work. The place I liked is on Seminary Road, which means I can avoid I-395 if I so desire, but the on-ramp to the highway is only a stone’s throw away, when and if I feel the need to join mortal combat driving school.

I still want to look at some places, but I’m going to apply to the place on Seminary, just to have something in my pocket. The place has a nice patio, is nearly 800 square feet and central air is included. Not sure my furniture will fit up the steps and through the front door, but I’ll worry about that later. Saw some great furniture at IKEA today that I might want to buy to fill up the space, so all in all, ’twas a productive and GREAT day!!!