Postal Spam

I don't check my postal mail on a regular basis. It's usually just junk mail or bills anyway and I'm ignoring *both* these days. A friend of mine who runs a business had told me she was going to send me something and to be looking for it. Ok, so even when I'm expecting mail, I don't check my mail. I figured after a week it was time to clear out the mailbox again. I open it up and amidst all the magazines and crap (And bills), what looks to be like a card falls out. I catch it before it falls completely and am baffled by what i see.


Mr. & Mrs. Dalton Irvan


For those of you who are not already on the floor laughing your ass off, let me explain to you just how many things are wrong with this.


- No one in my househould is married.
- Dalton is my child.
- Dalton is 4 years old.
- Dalton is a *Female*.

So i'm receiving mail addressed to my apparently married 4 year old. And her wife. *Arches a brow*

Wait. There's more. It gets better....

So now I'm wondering 'where the hell did they even get my child's NAME from to be sending mail???'

Upon closer inspection I find that the mail in question - is a wedding invitation.

From (Ok, try to follow along here) My ex's sister. The 4 year old? Flowergirl.
And me? I'm not invited. (No. Really. I'm not. I think it has something to do with maybe 6 months of *cough* you know.. something to do with the groom to be.)

MOVING ON...

I'm still amazed at the stupidity. Is it really a wonder i'm having nothing to do with this wedding?

O. M. G.

Karma & Genetics

I was thinking, since I call this 'Stupid things other people have said' I probably shouldn't post stuff about kidlette here... because kidlette is not *stupid*... She's blonde. She's 4. She's special. She's my kid. (which says SO much) But she's not stupid. Then again...

So on the way home last night I stop at the grocery. They were having an incredible sale on beef and I wanted some cow. I picked up a really *NICE* steak for about 1/2 off the normal cost. I was VERY happy, let me tell you. While I'm there I decide to pick up some tea - because I've made an agreement with G (and myself) to give up soft drinks. (Soft drinks... BAD!) So I think 'koolaid' yeah, that works. Kidlette can have *SOME* and I can have some and it gives me one more thing I can drink when I really want a coke. (Day 4 of no soft drinks - but I'm not obsessed or anything. Me? No!)

We get home and I unload the few little groceries and I keep the koolaid packets together in a bag until I'm ready for them and I throw the steak and a few hot dogs (Hey, It's what she WANTED for dinner! I Swear!!) on the grill. (As soon as I figure out how to actually use this so that the outside AND inside of meat are BOTH perfect, I will be SO happy) I do a few more things, finish up grilling and go eat diner. Yum! After dinner, kidlette sits next to me and she looks like she's got *Blood* on her... and I'm trying to figure out *what the hell?!* and her mouth looks like it's bleeding but she's not complaining. So, instead of jumping to conclusions, I *ask* her... 'What do you have on you?' and she squirms a bit and doesn't answer me. At this point, I just KNOW, she can't be bleeding - she'd be bawling hysterically if she were. I glance at her hands and she's trying to hide them from me. "Show me your hands" and my next statement? "WHERE is the koolaid packet?? Go get it! NOW!"

she goes straight to her room and returns with the entire bag of koolaid packets. One of them has been torn into *with teeth* and is now EMPTY. And my kid looks like she's bleeding from the mouth and fingers.

This morning, it's still there. Nothing stains quite like koolaid. I had hoped that between washing and time elapse overnight (and the koolaid cleaning fairies) that it would be gone this morning but of course not. SO... off to daycare. Where I get to explain to the day care worker that it's just koolaid. Two things occur to me. #1. My child is sneaky and devious. She snuck the whole bag into her room and tore into a koolaid packet b/c she wanted one. #2. My child is such a little weirdo. I mean, we used to eat powdered jello but it's 99% *SUGAR*! It's SWEET! It tastes GOOD! No sugar koolaid? UGH!

and I found myself telling the day care worker "I don't know what's *WRONG* with her!"

I leave and head to work, still baffled by my child, and with no traffic in front of me - I stop. At a Green light. And I say "WHAT is WRONG with me??"

and then a light bulb metaphorically appears in the middle of my brain and blinds me with the obvious. - It's Karma. And genetics.

My New Blog Posts

~snipped from a news article on Yahoo.com~

"Some bloggers are adding disclaimers saying they don't represent the company, or they are taking precautions not to blog from work. That may be wise: A Society for Human Resource Management survey found that some employers also are looking at job candidates' personal blogs before hiring them"


From now on:

"Dear Blog, Today, Much, much earlier in the day when I was at my job that I love so much, I worked very, very hard. I worked and worked and worked. I love my job. I have the best job in the world! I am so lucky and each morning I wake up and thank The Powers That Be that I am fortunate enough to have this Job. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you Powers That Be. Now that I'm AT HOME I can browse the internet and read the blogs of my friends. Gosh, I hope they're HOME too because I know none of them blog from work either! That's right, we're all very hard working employees who love our jobs and none of us would ever use company time or the company internet to do personal, frivolous nonsense. We would never dream of wasting company time in such a horrible disrespectful manner. I guess since some of my friends are two hours behind me I will be reading their blogs a day behind - As Usual.. since, that's how it works. *Blink* Well, I'm all sad now because I'm done working for the day at my amazing job so I think I will just go to bed in hopes that sleep will make tomorrow come sooner so I can get back to work! YAY! Oh, and weekends and Holiday's suck because we're off from work then. Goodnight Blog. Wow, I'm such a great employee. :) I just can't wait to be back at work and be productive and efficient and work, work, work!!"

HA!

for the full article, which I do suggest reading, go here

http://news.yahoo.com/s/usatoday/warningyourcleverlittleblogcouldgetyoufired

PS: Oh, won't someone please tell me how to change the *TIME* on my blogs. It makes it look like it's the middle of the day when really, it's night time... late... when work is closed for the day... and i'm home. really.

MAPOP

Of course no blog post would be complete without it somehow relating to Pete.

Last week, my sister wanted to borrow my car to go out of town. I needed an oil change. On the last oil change I was informed that I needed a new air filter but they didn't carry it so I'd have to get it somewhere else. I waited on the air filter then so I figured I really needed to change it out *now*. I also went over my 3,000 miles. This is the first time I've done that. Aly, Denise, y'all know. I've been anal about maint. on my car. So, knowing I was overdue for an oil change and WAY overdue for a new air filter, I simply could not let my car go on a long road trip without them. So, that was done Thursday. At this time I get a call from the shop saying 'and you need 2 new tires and an alignment and this is how much it's going to cost so why don't we just go ahead and get that done too' because, no, really... it's not like I work for the government or anything. (and for those of you who do not understand... yeah, we have a nice retirement plan and there's a few perks but... government employment? Yeah. there's no money in it, K?) So I pointed out that I only planned on the oil change and air filter and if they wanted to do anything else for free, be my guest. So guess what I got done on the car Thursday. Yeah.

So I wake up today and I don't know why my back keeps hurting but it does and I bum around and decide I can go in a little late... and I relax my back and take a long hot shower and it helps. And I feel better. And I head out and drop off kidlette and head to work. And things are good.

And I love my car. I do. really. I really do. but What the fuck is up with my tires? If I have ONE MORE incident with my freaking tires I'm going to seriously think someone is sabotaging them. Last September/October... my tires were low. constantly. Every day after work... low tires. I even had them checked out. they were fine... no explanation for why they were low. then all of a sudden one day... one's flat. it had a huge slash in it. Ok, so I got a new tire.

So I'm driving to work and suddenly my car just doesn't *Sound* right. Call me paranoid but it works for me - I can just hear and feel when something is wrong with my car. So I pull into a parking lot and sure enough... flat tire. Ok, I have towing on my insurance. I *pay* for this service. So do I call a tow truck and have it towed to the dealership? No. WHY? Your guess is as good as mine. So I limp to the dealership.

Stupid phrase #1 - Let's see if we can find out why your tire went flat

Yeah, my guess is there's a hole somewhere. I'm not a mechanic or anything but I'm betting money that the integrity of the tire has been breached somehow. just a guess. but what do I know. I'm just saying.

So after the never ending wait, they call me back into the service garage... and I'm thinking 'great, I'm going to trip over a lube rack and rip my face off' (It's a Paula Poundstone thing, sorry.) Point is, they should know better than to bring someone like *ME* back there. Then again, they probably know that someone like ME isn't going to believe them anyway because when it comes to mechanics I'm always convinced that they're just out to screw me. Whatever. So the tire, yeah. Nail. *AND* - slashed.

Trip to Dallas at end of month. Expenses: $ 200.00 if I don't really splurge.
Fixing car so it's bare minimum drivable: $ 130.00

And suddenly Dallas greatly resembles the walls of my apartment - because that's what I'm going to be looking at that weekend.

Stupid phrase #2 and how it ties into Pete:

"So, you see you really need 3 new tires with those two MAPOP's on the front there."

I really wanted to scream obscenities at the idiot right then and there. The fact that he pissed me off so much made it really easy to not be bullied into spending money I really don't have.

I have never heard the term Mapop before *last week* when Pete was taking about *HIS* tires. Note to self... do NOT let Pete discuss vehicle problems or my car might get ideas.

I want a coke. *Sulk* I'm being soooooooooo good.

I think Denise is going to make me cookies. Home made chocolate chip cookies. she loves me.

Oh, and cellular service? if I ever bored you with my praises of T-Mobile, I'm so, so very sorry. They suck. They officially suck. That was part of not calling a tow truck. Apparently during 'rush hour' traffic, IE, whenever I'm in my car to or from work, I get NO phone service. "All circuits are busy". Hey! They're giving away an autographed guitar on the radio! If I can get through to the phone lines I might..." All circuits are busy. OMG! Crossfade is playing at House of Blues next month! they're giving away tickets! except, yeah, All Circuits are busy. Damn, I need a tow truck. All circuits are busy. I hate T-Mobile.

My day is suckin. How's yours?

Ok, for a good laugh, Visit my friend Iniquity's blog :

http://iniquity.blogspot.com/

I'd do the neat little "Linky" thing but i don't know HOW. so there.

Friday

Yeah, Pete is gonna post about this too... but here goes...

So Friday, I'm going to drop off the digital camera to Pete since we're supposed to be getting bad weather on Saturday due to "Hurricane Arlene" * (more about this later)

So, I ask Pete if it's ok to drop it off Friday night instead of Saturday... to which he replies... sure.. and bring some Rootbeer!... and a movie... and Thai Food!! (Reserve comment)

Now, this is my OWN fault. I just *HAD* to impress him first time I met him and introduced him to Abita RootBeer. Great stuff. Problem is, it's kind of hard to find. Not impossible, mind you. Just hard. And of course, it's awesome stuff and now He's addicted. So, I run to the reliable grocery and they do indeed have the coveted ambrosia. I grab 2 6-packs. One for us for the evening and one for a 'I was thinking of you because I'm nice ... and ... Stupid' for my ex. I make my way to the register and wait my turn in line (For a WEEK! can we move it people?? Got Thai food to get!! Kind of on a schedule here!! ahem..) so register chick scans the bar code on 6-pack #1 and then #2 and then calmly looks at me. I'm expecting to hear my total. Instead, I hear "Can I see your ID please?"

FOR ROOTBEER??

Things *I* actually said:

"FOR ROOTBEER?!!?"
"I assure you, I'm old enough to buy rootbeer."

she just *looked* at me, as though she was UNSURE... (Do I look like perhaps I'm too young for softdrinks? Suddenly I look like I'm perhaps, oh, I don't know... 4!?)

I finally just gave her my ID and said "I'm divorced, have a kid... I'm 33! THANKS!!"

After dinner and movie and ROOTBEER w/ Pete, I stopped at a different grocery on my way home to pick up some basics for the weekend. Basics included two NORMAL sized bottles of wine and a 4-pack of the mini bottles of the white merlot I like. Guess what. No ID.

Apparently the word is out that I'm supposed to give up soft drinks. Who knew!

Oh, and Arlene??

Yeah, didn't touch us. Didn't even rain. Didn't even cool off the freaking 2,000 degree temperature outside! THIS... *THIS* is why we in new orleans, in Louisiana in general, LAUGH at freaking hurricanes. This is why we all say... "A hurricane? COOL! Maybe we'll get a day or two off work and we can PARTY!!! WOOOO!! Big drinking binge at my place! Everyone's invited!" because they don't come here. Which is good. And one day they will. And news crews will show a bunch of stupid drunk new orleanians who refused to leave their homes. But it's ok, we'll be happy. Why? Because we got a few days off of work, we had a good party and hey, we're all drunk. It's all good.

30 days has September...

Do you remember the ridiculous "poem" you learned in grade school about how to remember how many days were in a month?

30 days has September, April, June and November.

All the rest have 31. Except for February. Which has 28. 29 in a leap year.

(do you see a flaw with this so-called poem?)

Oh. And August. August has 50.

What? Your calendar says differently? Read below. I had to go dig this out of an email I sent a week or two ago.



Wow, I'm a day off... I'm thinking 'Hey you get your cats tomorrow!'
wait... It's Thursday already. Apparently I keep thinking there's an
extra day in the week... for like the past three weeks. I think it's
Called Wednesday II. Or maybe Thursday B. It's also genetic. I had a
conversation with my sister last night on my way home from work in
which she vented about having to learn yet another NEW input/data/forms
program for doing her work... 4th one in 3 years. She made a comment
that I will have to paraphrase because I was only half listening -
because that's what you do when someone vents.. you listen just
enough to be polite.(it's in the rule book)"blah blah blah, blah blah BUT
I have until like August 50th to put in it."

August *50*th??? Damn, you've got a long month coming up haven't
you??

But who am I to talk. I guess when you have 8 day weeks, you need 50
days to a month.

Genetics, man.

Yesterday

I seem to be having issues with mail at my apartment complex. This wouldn't really matter much other than I like to have my shopping come to me. I do a lot of catalog/online/phone ordering and have presents delivered to myself.

Lately, several orders have just never shown up. Now, I don't know if they're getting lost in the mail, stolen at the post office or stolen *at* the apartment complex but somewhere, my shopping is having 'one sock left in the dryer' syndrome.

A month and a half ago, I ordered some DVD's. I paid for them at time of order. They never came. I checked online and the status of my order was 'Pending'. So I *called* customer service. First of all let me just say... If you don't like helping people.. Especially STUPID people... DO NOT get a customer service job. Don't get all pissy with *me* just because YOU made a bad career choice, bud! I'm just sayin.

Ok, so this RUDE guy is telling me 'your order shipped weeks ago. You should have already gotten it. "Well, I DIDN'T... Otherwise I wouldn't be checking up on it and calling about it! Online, it says PENDING"
idiot boy says "Online is wrong" WTF?? So after arguing for a bit with Mr. I can Barely speak any english and I don't like you americans anyway, I gave up. "Fine, it shipped but I never got it"
-we can resend it to you-

So, on a hunch, I called yesterday to check on it and see how much longer it was going to be. One of the DVD's is a present.

More confusion ensues. In the end, all is resolved and they are supposed to ship them out - again-

So I ask if they can be sent to me at WORK and he says SURE! No problem!

"Ok, so I'll send it to you... At this address... And... Do they know you there?"

*Blink*

"No, I just show up here. They have no idea why." some days, neither do I.

Daltonism

I have a 4 year old. With issues. I love my child and I feel so, so terribly sad that she has apparently inherited my anxiety disorder. My child worries needlessly. Totally genetics. I can't pee alone b/c apparently she's afraid I'll get flushed. If I leave the house to go get the mail and I don't let her come with me, she cries hysterically -apparently thinking I'm leaving her. Alone. Forever. Never to return.

My sister is borrowing my car for the weekend for an out of town trip. My brother in law came by last night and swapped out the cars after kidlette was in bed asleep. He parked the car in the parking lot of the bank next door (Stares like a deer caught in headlights) - Don't ask me WHY -

This morning, kidlette and I get up and head out. First, she's confused because we're not headed to where I park the car. Then, she's confused because she doesn't see the Big Red Car anywhere.

"Mommy? Where's you car?" (That's not a typo. That's how she talks.)

"We have Aunt Tina's car today"

*(My sister, Kristina, NEVER allowed anyone to EVER call her anything OTHER than Kristina. Not Kris. Not Kristi. Not Tina. Nothing. EVER!!! So, when little blonde child started calling her 'Tina'... She thought it was just the cutest thing in the world... And Me? Do I take advantage of that? Oh yes I do! Do I encourage kidlette to continue to call her 'Tina'? You bet your bum! Why? Eh. Years of sibling rivalry? My own amusement?)

So, we get in the car and as I head out of the parking lot of the bank *rolling eyes* I hear:

"Mommy? Are we goin to find you car?"

"No, aunt *Tina* has mommy's car today"

"Oh."

* Silence all the way to daycare * (My child talks so much, so non-stop, that she even talks in her sleep. This was completely out of character for her)

We arrive at her daycare. We enter and she *RUNS* to her Daycare worker.. and with obvious anxiety and distress rapidly cries:

"Ms. Wilma!! Tina Lost mommy's car!!!"

hahahahahahaha

my kid.

Welcome to my little world

I caved. I so caved. It's all Pete's fault. (It is! I blame you for everything. It works for me - deal with it) I have NO idea how this works. I resisted The Blog for quite some time now. Then I *HAD* to read Pete's blog. (Apparently it was in the fine print of the friendship contract.) And then I had to go adopt Crazy Aunt Purl. She makes me want to drink. (You will not turn me into a yarn sniffer! I will resist!) I think Pete wanted me to get a blog so I had some place to write everything - instead of emailing it to him. Nice. (KIDDING! kind of.)

Ok, so i swear i just heard a co-worker say the phrase 'watered down ice'. *Stares like a deer caught in headlights* I work with some winners. That's right... i have a job!! I'm the head carrot peeler for a major salad corporation. By night, i moonlight as an oompa loompa. you know, short, fat, round, ORANGE. It works for me. The men are ALL over it bay-bee! *ahem*

Ok, so i work for the government and when i'm not laughing hysterically at other people's blogs, i'm working very hard at solving the latest freecell game thrown at me. Or i'm emailing Pete.

So, inspired by my Auntie i never knew i had (Crazy Aunt Purl) i bought some new wine last night. and it's lovely. so lovely in fact that i shall have some more tonight. :) Yum. Oh, i also blame Pete, Autie Purl, Jennifer (Friend of Aunt Purl's) and lots of other people whose blogs i've been stalking... for making me want to tempt fate and get another cat!! i'm allergic! i had resigned myself to living without cats. Then i saw all the cute kitties and i was all depressed. Now, i'm in denial. "If i get a KITTEN and keep it CLEAN.... i won't have asthmatic bronchits" Yeah. right. that's how it works.

They're evil people i tell you. Evil. Evil, evil... *sigh* i adore them. Even the strangers that i've only watched from afar. "there's someone looking in through your window" "Yeah, that's just my stalker" Yup. That's me.

I adore my new Auntie, Crazy Aunt Purl because i can SO relate. well, Except for that yarn sniffing thing. 30 somthing, divorced, love cats... my friend Denise will one day be rich and famous. And she will buy land. And she will develop this land. it will be PRIME property. It will be her own little subdivision for her and her best friends. And it will be called... Catopia. And she will be mayor. (we've worked it all out, really) Only, i've been expelled from catopia because i've become allergic to cats and i can't even be a cat lady!! *SOB*!! But she said i can still live in catopia. She loves me.

So that's it. I'm going to be doing more drinking... and i'm gonna get a cat. and lots of benadryl.

So you can check out Pete's blogs here : http://www.blogger.com/profile/8866322

and from there, you can go visit Crazy Aunt Purl. (That's how *I* do it)
And her friends. And their friends. It just goes on and on and on. But they're funny. Really. Enjoy!