Sammy’s 4th Annual Holiday Message

 

Although after having done some research on previous posts in this series, “message” is kind of an exaggeration. It is usually just Sammy’s annual holiday photo and a brief shout-out to his human fans. Although last year I did go on a bit of a diatribe about my then 11-month unemployment stint. All better now, though: gainfully employed and back to having access to office equipment!

 

Happy whatever it is you celebrate, humans!

Comments & Questions for the person or persons unknown who stole from my car last weekend

You suck.

 

Your god will punish you.

 

Because I am a better person than you, I hope someone never does the same or worse to your mother/sister/aunt/niece/wife/daughter/granddaughter. Yes I can lay claim to being only a daughter and niece (because all my grandparents are dead and I have no siblings) but still.

 

You owe the bum outside Smith’s a dollar. He approached me shortly after my discovery of your crime and, under normal circumstances, would have gotten a dollar from me, but instead he got a shocked look on his face when I gasped “My car was just broken into!” I am sure he would like to have a car that could get broken into.

 

Did you think the Godiva bag contained chocolate? Because as you have discovered, I used it as a trash bag. All those gum wrappers and used lint roller sheets covered in cat hair must have come as a nasty surprise. But count yourself lucky you did not steal from me back in the day when I had a life - because there might have been used condoms in there then.

 

If you are not an ABBA or Frank Sinatra fan you’re going to have to become one if you keep the CDs that were in the holder you stole.

 

Your actions will make me a liar to my mother. Amongst your haul was one glove (why did you leave the other one?). My mum hand knitted those for me. When I ask her to knit me another pair she is going to ask what happened to this pair and I cannot tell her the truth because that would upset her. Yeah, I know it is not unusual for me to lie to my parents (they still do not know I was out of work for 18 months) but those are lies on my terms.

 

What are you going to do with the owner’s manual? Those things are useless to those of us who own the actual car so I can’t see what use you will get out of it.

 

Don’t think your taking the proof of insurance card and registration is going to cause me too much hardship because I had another insurance card in my desk and getting a replacement registration was a piece of cake (all done online and it cost just $6).

 

Didn’t you see the first aid kit? Yeah it mainly contained some plasters and out-of-date antacids, but there was one pill in there, a good one, I think, a Loritab, if I am remembering correctly. O. gave it to me a couple years ago after surgery and I have been meaning to take it sometime but just never got around to it. Do those things lose their efficacy? Maybe that is what I will do on Thanksgiving, because I have no other plans.

 

I hope you went to the casino next door and spent that $10 in quarters I always have on hand (just in case I ever find myself at a toll booth) because it certainly was your lucky night, wasn’t it? I mean, what are the odds that you do actually come across an unlocked car? How many handles did you try before you got to mine?  Yes, this whole thing is entirely my fault, I forgot to lock my car when I got home after a physically and emotionally tiring day, stood outside for five or so hours in the frigid (for Vegas, anyway) temperatures dealing with privileged white people bitching and moaning about having to pay an entrance fee to a work event that I was staffing.

 

But… maybe you should have avoided the casino because, as a matter of fact, you were not that lucky. Because I made a last-minute decision to take up to my apartment the heavy, bulky and unlocked cash box, inside which was a bank bag that contained the takings from that day’s event. That bag contained $970. Cash. OK, yes, it was in one of those bank-issued bags that have its own lock on it and is made of some super-tough material that I am sure cannot be cut by just any old household cutting tool but I am sure that somewhere there is a chop shop for those bags (and I would really like to go online and find out, but I don’t want that kind of search history on my computer!) So, yeah, you weren’t so lucky after all.

 

And in fact, I am the lucky one because, man, it could have been so much worse. Because you did not steal the car.  And I do not think any of the paperwork you stole (the insurance, registration and some receipts from the dealership when I got oil changes and new tires, etc.) contain any information useful in identity theft (but I could be wrong). All you took was possessions. No physical harm befell the car. Or me. Because there have been a couple of armed robberies in the apartment complex recently so it could have been a lot worse. It was just stuff. Stuff. I was lucky. So why do I feel so shitty then?

Fruit that looks like Cheese & Other Eating Adventures

 

This is what I ate and drank yesterday:

Breakfast, in the office, with co-workers:

• One Einstein’s sesame seed bagel with plain cream cheese
• One lemon curd iced pastry thingie from Costco
• One can Diet Coke

Lunch, at a Thai place near the office, with a co-worker:

• All the carrots, some of the lettuce, none of the tomatoes (tomatoes are yucky) from the tiny salad that came with my combo lunch
• Some of the soup
• All the chicken, all the potatoes and some of the onions from the yellow curry
• Some of the plain white rice
• All of the crisp fried thingies that came with the lunch (not exactly sure what these were – perhaps a wonton wrapper or something of that ilk?)
• A tiny green candy (apple flavored, I think, although it could have been lime) that came with the check
• Iced water

Afternoon snack, at my desk:

• The thin layer of chocolate fudgy topping that was on the brownie that one of the catering staff working an event in the same building gave me (he has a crush on one of my co-workers and he is always bringing in stuff for her. I have guilted him into including me on some of his giveaways but not all (although she did once end up giving me the stuff he gave to just her one time, so there)). I didn’t eat the brownie because it had nuts in it and I only like nuts when they are salted and eaten alongside a cold beer. Oh! Is that where the name beer nuts comes from? Talk amongst yourselves while I do some online research. (Doo-dee-doo-dee-do-dee-doo.) Nope, it is just a brand name that came about because the nuts were sold in bars. Where there is beer.
• Iced water

Dinner, at Del Frisco’s (yeah, you read that right – Del-fricking-Frisco’s!!!)

• Some grapes, a few cubes of cheese, a few small slices of a salami-like meat, one cracker, and one cube of a fruit that I thought was a cheese (I had more on my plate but once I realized it was fruit and not cheese I did not eat any more (fruit, yuck). (Grapes don’t count because they create wine so they are exalted.))
• Two prime rib BLT sliders with the L and the T taken off (because I already had my share of L at lunch and I hate Ts (see above))
• One grilled lamb chop lollipop thingie with béarnaise sauce
• One and a half Philly cheese steak egg rolls (sounds like it wouldn’t work, right? Wrong – these were orgasmic)
• The bread part of a tuna tartare bruschetta (only the bread because the topping had way too many tomatoes (see above times two) and well, I am sorry, if g*d had meant us to eat raw food he would never have invented fire)
• One green jelly bean
• Two glasses of white wine
• At least two glasses of red wine (I kind of lost count when I switched to red and the waiter was filling up as he went around the tables, there was no ordering of rounds involved)

So I hear you all ask, what is so extra special about yesterday’s food intake that I thought it merited a blog post? (Apart from the fact that there was a ton of it (excessive even for me) and now you all realize why I have 17 chins, high cholesterol and an ass that will soon need its own zip code should it get any bigger.) Well, for one, I have very little to write about these days, as previously stated.

Secondly, all the meals were just fun and not one was eaten alone which is rare in my lonely life. Breakfast was during our weekly staff meeting; lunch was with a co-worker; and dinner was at Del Frisco’s after another work meeting. I have never been there (because money). It was just my co-workers (because they are pretty much the only people I know in Vegas). Various apps were shared amongst the group and it was all very casual. Well, as casual as it gets in a place like Del Frisco’s (an aside: when I went to look up their menu, Google brought up Del Taco before it brought up Del Frisco’s. Getting dissed by Google is a very painful thing).

But most remarkable of all is that, apart from the Diet Coke, I did not pay for a single thing (breakfast provided by the company, lunch paid for by my co-worker (I had partially paid for her lunch on a previous occasion) and dinner, once again, on the company). Score! And I purchased that Diet Coke about two or three pay cycles ago so technically it does not count.

 

Filler II: The Nothingness Continues

My favorite genre of literature is murder mysteries. (My least favorite? Romances, because at my age and looking the way I do I have a better chance of being murdered than I do of being romanced). Two of my favorite authors were Elizabeth George and Harlan Coben. Their last three or so books have been hugely disappointing; they have run out of stories to tell. I think the same could be said of me. I mean, I never had that many stories in the first place, what with my life being so mind-numbingly boring anyway. What I am saying is, do you think it might be time to call it quits with this blog? Because I have been sat here for the last 30 minutes or so, trying to come up with something for this, my now once-a-month blog entry. And all I have done of note in the last month is change the filter in my Brita pitcher. I know, right? Stop the presses! How is one person able to handle such excitement?

But I will take having nothing to report over having bad news to report anytime…

Filler

Nothing to report, just doing this post so there is an entry for this month. But… it is not a bad thing that I have nothing to report because at least I don’t have any bad news to share. Because I still have my new job! This is a record. I kept the last part-time job longer, but this is the longest I’ve kept a full-time job since being laid off. And I hope one day I can say this is the longest I have kept any job EVER because I surely do love it. It is far from perfect – the software system is a bitch to learn, there is another chick there who has a bit of an alpha female attitude, there is a mandatory retirement fund to pay into – but all-in-all, I consider myself blessed to have found this job. It almost makes up for those months and months of unemployment misery. Almost.

Maybe this time…

Tomorrow I start a new job. The fifth since my layoff back in January 2014. Is this one going to be any different from the previous four? Oh, I hope so very much it will be. Because it has to be. Because I cannot take any more. If this one does not work out, I do not know what I will do. It will work out. It has to. As always, I will not be providing details just yet, but suffice it to say, this job checks off pretty much all the boxes on my dream job list. Location? A mile and a half/10 minutes’ drive away. Benefits? Out the wazoo. Pay? About the same as I was getting when I left the paper, but that was my pay grade after SIX years, this is my STARTING pay. The only downside so far is that it will involve attending some off-site events. That means driving. You all know what I am like when it comes to driving. But you know what, it is about time I grew a pair and got over those issues already. Although, at the interview, I emphasized my tree-hugging side, said how I am always cognizant of my carbon footprint and “Is there ever a time when car-pooling to these events takes place?” Ha!

I’m Still Alive

OK, so the belief I held for so long that I would not live much past age ?? was a load of crap, for today I am 547 days (or one year, six months, and one day) older than ?? and I have got to admit, that is WAY past age ?? (new readers can catch up here and here). So now what? Well, first, I guess I have to say goodbye to the black-wearing, Keats-quoting part of me that has been around since my teenage years. Yeah, that’s not going to happen (90% of my wardrobe is black and Keats rocks) but perhaps I can dial it back a bit. Then, under normal circumstances, I might have wanted to start contributing more to my 401(k) but I cashed that thing in a few months ago (only reason I am not up to my eyeballs in credit card debt). I can think of one thing only right now and that is getting a job.

Oh, that reminds me, only the inner circle is privy to the latest news: I quit the telephone research job to take on another part time (but way better) position. Of course, because my life has been nothing but a farce this last 18 months, I lost that position after a few weeks, and I can’t go back to the telephone research job because they have a stupid rule that you cannot reapply for six months. I applied for my dream job but did not get it, after easily the Worst Interview Of My Life. Although, I do have to wonder if one of the employees there might have put in a bad word for me. We’d exchanged some hot and heavy emails after he’d placed an ad on Craig’s List for a BBW to help fulfill a sexual fantasy he had. It was such a vanilla fantasy but he was extremely embarrassed by it, which I put down to his Catholic upbringing, but I could be wrong because I tend to blame lots of things on religion, card-carrying atheist that I am. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, so we never did meet and fulfill his fantasy (seriously, it was so lame, I think Margaret Thatcher might have done it. Or even Barbara Bush). But in the course of our email exchange I learned he worked at this place and so when I got the interview, I sent him an email saying I might run into him. And I did, being shown around the offices after the Worst Interview Of My Life. I am not sure of how much clout he has, but I do wonder if he might have said something to the powers that be. Oh well.

So what now, now that I might have to start believing the fortune teller who read my palm once and said I had the longest life line she had ever seen?

Feast of the Virgin, Year III

 

Gawd, it just keeps getting more pathetic each year, doesn’t it?

The Last Idol Post of the Season

Maybe because my libido is abnormally high right now, but I thought there were some hot dudes on Idol last night. Even Dorothy’s friend Ryan Seacrest was doing it for me, but then again I have always been a sucker (and a blower!) for a Tux. (But you’re still my number one, Brian Dunkleman.)  And Pitbull, wow, on paper he should not be as hot as he is but he is.

The rest of the show was meh. I’d predicted Nick’s win a couple weeks ago so that was anticlimactic for me. And I miss the clip packages, there were only two last night and they were pretty dull. And there were none during the regular season either. And WTF was the deal with last year’s winner not getting any airtime, all he did was walk onstage with the trophy at the end. (Actually, I think I just answered my own question – I can’t remember his name.)

I think they have cancelled this show at just the right time, it is really showing its age. I had actually decided not to watch again simply because I hate that they eliminated the results show. Yes, those were padded more than Julia Roberts’ bra but the combo performance/results just did not do it for me. But now that I know next season is going to be the last I am going to watch it. And I hope I am in a better position emotionally (i.e., I have a fulltime, permanent job) so I can report on it regularly here.

Revenge is done, and so am I

Driving home from work on the evening of May 21, 2010, I fervently prayed to a god I do not believe in to make sure I got home alive so I would be around to watch the final episode of Lost two nights later. I was obsessed with that show (well, obvs, if I was praying, card-carrying heathen that I am). In fact, I spent the entire week prior in a state of unrest, hoping that this would not be when the car accident and/or heart attack happened that I think is going to be the cause of my death. As the final credits rolled, I swore that I would never again get so emotionally involved in a television show. I managed to keep that promise until a little over a year later when Revenge debuted. Its final episode was last night.

 

Oh, how I love that show, big campy soapy mess that it is.

 

But once again I had a week fraught with worry. Of the eight times I had to be in my car, would one of those journeys be my last? Was that twinge just indigestion from the McDonald’s French fries and Taco Bell beefy burrito that was my lunch or was it the heart attack finally showing up? Or would circumstances conspire to bring about my death via one of the other myriad ways I think I am going to die? Like what if one of the tigers at the Mirage escaped and made its way over to me? It’s only 1.76 miles according to MapQuest (1.6 according to Google Maps). Or what if I got a splinter and died from the resulting infection? Or what if a squirrel bit me and I died from rabies? I wasn’t worried about the other way I fear dying - quicksand – because I had no plans to go anywhere once I got home, just down to check the mail where I could run into an errant squirrel or an escaping tiger or all sorts of wooden objects.

 

But the worrying was all just too much for me and once again I am vowing to never let myself get so emotionally invested in a television programme. You read it here.

April Sours

Nothing to report, because nothing of note has happened lately. But I did not want this to be the first month ever of no postings, so…

I am working part-time, but I still have full-time expenses. No other prospects in the wind. I interviewed at a company that has just relocated to Vegas but they turned me down because they thought I would not be happy in such an unstructured environment and “If we were interviewing you in a year’s time when we were more settled, we’d hire you on the spot.” WTF? That was supposed to make me feel better? I’d rather they have told me that I was severely underqualified for the job or that they did not want such an ugly fat lump working for them than that.

Then there is American Idol, which used to be such a bright spot in my dull life. Last season, during my first year of unemployment, it was hard to get excited about it, but this year is even worse. The little twerp was voted out but none of the five remaining contestants excite me enough to want to think about voting for him or her (actually voting is another thing). But, conversely, none of the five (unlike Angie Miller did in season 12 or Jessica Sanchez did in season 11 or James Durbin did in season 10, etc., etc.) are pissing me off enough to vow to not watch it again should he or she win. I hate not having anyone to hate.

Yeah, That’s Not Going To Happen

OK, so I know it has been only a week or so, but no way is the Vegas version of a call center job going to result in the summer of a lifetime, long-term friendships or even sex like the Boulder incarnation did. Way too many people, for one, packed into tiny cubes; too many to interact with any one person. Plus there is nowhere within walking distance to go get a drink. And I am just so anti-social right now and the sort of people this job attracts are, well, not my cup of tea this time around. And my memory may be playing tricks on me, but I do not recall the surveys I did back then being as mind-numbingly boring as these (one was about an electric power line in Arkansas. Another was about how an international trade agreement would affect Oregon. Yawn). One thing that has not changed, however, is how rude and mean and downright horrible people are. You know, if you do not want to do a survey, fine, no need to yell at me about it. And those Arkansans telling me “I hate that son of a bitch” about our President or the number of stoned Oregonians I spoke with are really just enforcing their respective state’s stereotypes.

Will Lightening Strike Twice?

In the spring of 19??, I was living in Boulder, Colo. I was recently divorced and newly unemployed. I had been let go, after a week, from an office position because I did not have a car. They knew this at the interview. They thought it would not be a problem. Turns out, it was. Pisser was, I’d given up a relatively cushy job as an assistant manager of a book store. (Remember those? Funnily enough, it was located in a strip mall along with, amongst others, a travel agents and a Blockbuster. It must be a wasteland now.) Desperate for work, I took a job doing telephone market research. You know the sort, those ’phone surveys about, amongst other things, elections (“If the election was held tomorrow, who would you vote for?”).

That spring turned into one of the best summers of my life, even though I had no money, no car, and a pretty crappy living situation (I was rooming with two girls, an Indian girl who very sweet but boring and a born-again Christian chick who was just boring). I worked mid-afternoon to nine at night and weighed the least I have ever weighed in my American life (I am convinced that shift had a lot to do with that). I casually dated, read a ton, and hung out with some of my co-workers at bars on the Pearl Street Mall during their late-night happy hours (none of us could afford to drink any other time). One time, on a day off, I had a date in one such bar. After the date imploded, I wasn’t ready to go home so I went into the offices to see if anyone was about to finish a shift and wanted to get a drink. One girl did, and said, “Yeah, let’s go to the Cellar, it’s Trivia Tuesday.”

The rest, as they say, is history.

I’d have never discovered the Pearl Street Cellar if she had not taken me there (no one did, it was located, um, in a cellar and at the quieter end of the mall and pretty much everyone who went there had been taken by someone else). My co-worker introduced me to some of her friends there. One of them was a young man named J. He was, at the time, the most handsome man I had ever met in real life. We quickly bonded over our shared Capricornism (is that even a word/thing?) and our love of the Pittsburgh Steelers (although mine was not as advanced then as it is now). 

I eventually got a “proper” job but remained close to some co-workers, one of whom introduced me to her neighbor, T. I became, um, friends with T. who invited me to a party at his house. Also at this party was JTV, a friend of T.’s and a regular at the Cellar! I know to most of you this would seem like a wild coincidence but this was in Boulder, where instead of six, it is just two degrees of separation. JTV had brought along a friend of his. The prettiest boy alive (yep, that guy).

The rest, as they say, is history.

So yes, because of this one job I met some of the most important people in my life. I am still friends with J. and JTV, and T. and I are Facebook friends (he is married now, to someone who used to work with another dear friend of mine, PLL - again, Boulder, two degrees). I continued going to the Cellar in its new incarnation, when it moved to a street-level location in the middle of the Mall, and I took E. and D. there and we made it our regular hang-out in another brief but fantastic time in my life.

So why am I sharing all this? Because tomorrow, I start working a part-time and (god, I hope) temporary position at a telephone market research company.

Will the rest, as they say, be history?

One is the loneliest number

It's the loneliest number since the number one. Cats do not have opposable thumbs. That is all.

The First Idol Post of the Season

If Daniel Seavey wins, I am never watching Idol again. That is all.

One Week

 

Neighbors were selling it. Less than six months old, 40 inches, $150. Of course I jumped at it. Of course it was the day before I was let go. Ad went on Craig’s List the day after I was let go. Sold it today. Made a $25 profit, but still. It was a glorious week of television watching. Back to 20 inches. Sigh.

Once… Twice… Three Times a Loser

Yep, new new job is done. They let me go this afternoon. Said I was not “picking it up quickly enough.” Which confirms my suspicions that I am too old to learn new stuff. I really did try, this time. I mean, with the first new job I can understand why they let me go, but not with this one. I was learning more every day but I guess my pace was “too slow for their business model” (that phase was bandied about in the exit interview) (gag). But whilst I am devastated I have once again lost a job (that is three in 12-and-a-half months) I really am not devastated I lost this job. Because that commute was a bitch and there was some intense favoritism going on there (to those who have the same last name as the owners, if you know what I mean) and it was way too sales-oriented (I told them at my interview I could not sell a cup of water to a man dying of thirst).

So what now? Well, first off, I am not plugging this post on Facebook. And I will not send a link to some friends like I usually do. I am not telling anyone yet (well, I told one person so far but only because I hope he is sympathetic enough to want to fuck me. Kind of hard (ha!) though considering he lives in California, and has a wife and all). I am going to lay low this weekend (by that I mean drink myself into a stupor) and I shall not be answering my phone (should it ring) or reply to any texts or emails. Right now I cannot think beyond this booze-filled weekend.

What a loser I am.

My New New Job, Three Weeks And One Day

Phew! I have survived longer at this job than my last one!! Yeah, only by a quarter of a day but still. Who knows for how much longer, though, because well, as it stands right now, I do not think there will be enough work for me. It could be that it is just a quiet sales period for the industry (something to do with selling electronic components - I haven’t yet got a good grasp on what it is they do exactly. But if you think that is bad, I still can’t quite remember the company’s name because it is really similar to a previous company I worked for (well, similar in the sense that both names begin with C), plus they have a subsidiary (that one buys the components (I think)), so I just keep referring to the business card I have stuck on my computer (I say it is there because I haven’t memorized the fax number or the address yet – can’t really tell them the real reason, right?!).)

Anyway, I know this is a terrible attitude to have, what with the year I just had, but frankly, should they chose not to continue my employment, I would not be that devastated. Because the commute is bad. Well, me-bad. For the average American it is probably, well, average. Plus the learning curve is pretty steep. Either that or I am just too old to be learning new stuff.

One positive is that I have been eating healthier because of it. There are no vending machines in the building and it is located in the middle of nowhere, with nothing nearby. Well, there is a 7-eleven, but it would require making a left turn to get to it, so that’s not feasible. So I eat only what I take with me and I have been taking only relatively healthy stuff like almonds and pineapple and grapes and protein bars and Lean Cuisines.

On, and sexy bicep tattoo guy just keeps getting hotter. He is really nice (bastard) but he can be a bit moody which makes him even hotter. I think his SO is older than him, too, so maybe he likes older women. Now, if only he liked fat ones too, and wasn’t fussy about cheating, then I’d be set.

My New New Job, Day 1

I don’t hate it, but… meh. After almost a year of no other job offers I cannot afford to be picky. I just have to suck it up. I did find out sexy bicep tattoo guy has a significant other and kids. Or dogs. Or even cats. (He referred to them in a species-neutral way.)

Year in Review - 2014 Edition

For reasons unbeknownst to me, my first Year in Review post (2012 edition) continues to be the most read of this blog. This put an enormous amount of pressure on the shoulders of the 2013 YIR post. Unfortunately, it could not match the numbers of its predecessor (not even close – 768 views compared to 16). So had 2014 been a “normal” year I would have striven to make its YIR entry stand out. But that was not destined to be, for whilst the first 14 days were OK, and the last nine proved to be quite nice, the rest of 2014 was quite sucky. So, to the majority of 2014, I have just one thing to say: Go fuck yourself.

Is today my last day on Earth?

Tomorrow is my ??th birthday. Which means today is my last day of being ?? years old. As this post explains, I have long believed I would not live much past ??. Because I have been preoccupied with other things this past year, I had forgotten that this might be the year I die. But had I not been watching The Price is Right job-hunting, would this past year have been lived differently? Not really, I suppose. I mean, if I knew for certain I was going to die, I would have tried to fit in visits to various places (England, New Zealand, Denver, Pittsburgh, etc.), but that would be impossible anyway, because of Sammy and money issues. Oh, I just thought of something: maybe that is why the Universe conspired to keep me out of work for such a long time – to take my mind off my imminent death. Ironically, I would have been out of work for some of the year anyway, if I could guarantee my death, because no effing way am I working if I do not need to and if I am going to be dead then I would not need to work.  

So, with no plans to drive today (no plans to even get dressed, still in my nightwear (Superbowl XL t-shirt)), the probable way I am going to die is eliminated. There is still the chance of the heart attack (the second probable cause of my death). There is nothing I can do about that today (although starting Monday I am going to try (I even bought almonds from Trader Joe’s)).

But wait, when I have thought about it, I have always used the disclaimer “not much past.” So maybe I will live to see my ??th birthday tomorrow, but will die later (well, yeah, that is kind of guaranteed). So then this raises the issue of how much time is “not much past”. A week, three months, two years? I think my OCD would dictate that “not much” to mean I would still be closer to ?? than ??. And so any time before my half birthday (July 3) falls into the “not much past” timeframe. So, yeah, OK, I will give up on my belief of dying “not much past age ??” if I am still alive on the 4th of July this year.