Sleeping Duty IV – Home at Last

 

So remember, just before I got laid off and descended into 18 months of hell, I did a sleep study? Not sure if I ever mentioned it because I was too preoccupied with finding a job, but I never got around to picking up the equipment. I planned to – I literally had just gotten off the phone making arrangements to pick it up when my boss called me into his office. The rest, as they say, is history. Yes, I know, I still had medical insurance and could have gotten the equipment but I did not want to take on the extra expenses not covered by my insurance just in case my unemployment lasted a while. Talk about prophetic, right?

Anyway, recently I decided I should finally get off my fat arse and deal with this. Of course because so much time has passed I could not just go ahead and pick up where I left off. I had to do the sleep study again. And this one was vastly different. I was in a different room, for one, not as nice and located directly off the reception area, which at times was very noisy. Secondly, I did not fall asleep as quickly (this one was scheduled way earlier in the evening) and there was concern that not enough data had been gathered to provide a diagnosis. One similar thing? I once again had slightly racist dreams (this one involved a mariachi band playing outside my window).

But the biggest difference this time was that I had a male technician conducting the study. This did not bother me at first, mainly because he wasn’t my type so I did not care that he was seeing me in just knickers and my beloved-but-ratty Steelers t-shirt. In fact, I was so much at ease that as he was sticking the wires all over me, I blurted out, “Well that’s the most action I have gotten in a long time.” (Which, technically, is true.) However, I think he took that as carte blanche because the banter that followed was borderline-offensive.  He went on about how his wife is also a BBW and how he couldn’t understand how men can sleep with skinny chicks. He told me he had not had sex in at least three weeks (yeah, try four years, buddy) and that he could not understand why I was single (this threw me at first because I had not mentioned anything about this, but then I remembered “Marital Status” was a question on the intake paperwork). It started to make me feel a little uncomfortable and I think this contributed to my inability to fall asleep quickly, but, as I said, I think my initial comment started it all off. Which I know is classic victim-blaming, but still.

Anyway, turned out there was enough data because, last week, I picked up the equipment! But I do not like it. It is not Darth Vader-ish noisy like the equipment used in the study but there are leaks that shoot up into my eyes and it makes my mouth dry and I cannot really lay on my side and the headgear is tight and if I have an itchy nose I have to remove the mask and then if I do not put it back on properly it makes farting noises and I have to buy distilled water to put in it and clean parts of it daily and weekly and replace some parts every three months and pay for it for 13 months (then I own it) and on nights I drink heavier than usual and pass out on the sofa I can’t be arsed to put it on for the remainder of the night when I crawl into bed and when I get up to pee I do not put it back on either and yeah, well, I do not like it. But maybe it will get better and maybe I will see health benefits but right now not so much.

Feast of the Virgin, Year IV

Oh yes, another year has gone by without any fornication. None whatsoever, not like a couple years ago when there was some 34.5 action (34.5 is half of 69). But you know what? I am OK with it. Which is not to say I wouldn’t jump at the chance of turning Anderson Cooper, but otherwise I am OK with being a born-again virgin again. And I could have gone the Moet & Chandon route this year, because I am somewhat more solvent than last year, but I couldn't be arsed. My $7, 1.5 liter of Pinot Grigio was perfectly acceptable.

May 23

May is my favorite month and 23 is my favorite number and that is really all I have to write about! Yep, another “just because I don’t want to go a whole month without a post” post. I’ve actually started a couple, one about a frenemy who has set up a Go Fund Me page, which I think has potential but it is difficult for me to write it because I come off as a bit of a sociopathic bitch (so what is new?!!!). Then I had some medical tests done and the results were kind of scary but if I write about that I know it will result in some nagging from certain readers. And then I had another dream incident, not one that made me money, but one that did result in my tracking down a high school friend I’d been looking for for ages (I am not much of a feminist but I hate the fact that after marriage men get to keep their own names but for the most part women do not and that makes them hard to find if you don’t know their married names). And then there is work stuff: I have my 11-month performance review coming up in the next few weeks and that determines whether I get to stay and whether I get a pay raise, so I am on tenterhooks about that. I’ve heard that after your first year, it is pretty much impossible to get fired and that the contracts are for something like 50 years! Fifty years! I will be way dead by the time that expires!

So, yeah, thanks for reading, sorry my life is so boring but stay tuned, if I can find a way to tell you about how I want to make a Go Fund Me donation because that way my frenemy will know I know about her issues without coming across as a cold-hearted bitch, I will (guess that boat sailed, right?!!!)

A Farewell to Idol

To say that American Idol was a big part of my life is no exaggeration. And now it is gone. But I think it went out in style because its last episode was pretty near perfect from start (the Dunk was back - more later) to finish (I did not want La’Porsha to win (also more later).

Because of my OCD and addictive personality I try not to start watching a TV show from the very first episode, because the OCD means I will have to watch it until the bitter end and the addictive personality means I will want to watch it until the bitter end.

And I am not a fan of the reality TV genre.

It is a wonder then that I watched (every single episode of) American Idol (live). No exaggeration. I did not DVR it because it started after my bedtime (Revenge, The Americans, Impractical Jokers) and I did not miss an ep because I was having a midlife crisis and relocating 750 miles (Lost, season three, episode 14, original air date March 28, 2007, the one featuring that smoking hot Brazilian guy who was in Love Actually. I was driving through Utah at the time. I caught up with it online a few days later but it remains the only episode of Lost I did not watch live).

But Idol was an exception. Mainly because of its British component (which is also the same reason I started reading the Harry Potter books (and once I started to read the books, I had to watch the movies because I always do)).

I have voted for some contestants. I have borrowed from the library and copied on to my iPod some performers’ CDs (but not purchased – I may be a super fan but I am still cheap). And I once even had a viewing party for a finale. That is rare. The only other time I have ever done that is for Friends. Although I guess party is a slight exaggeration because in both cases the guest list consisted of only one other person - D. for Friends and my former friend K. for Idol (former because she got engaged and turned into Bridezilla; D. also got engaged but did not). I also crushed on the occasional judge (I would go down under with Keith any time), one or two contestants, and of course the only host that mattered, Brian Dunkleman. It also provided fodder for this blog.

And, yeah, I thought the final episode was damn near perfect. I have always thought using the song One Voice the way they did would be a great start to a show or a concert. And then there was Simon, the British component that got me started with this show. I could have done without the fake surprise when he showed up because seriously, did anyone think he would not? The judging panel was never the same without him - he told it like it was; yes, he was harsh but he was never unfair. I am very glad there were subtitles of all the singers because I did not recognize a ton of them – Bo’s new look is hot although I do miss Justin’s Sideshow Bob hair style. I enjoyed the fact that Kree got more airtime than that bitch she lost to; and I loved that the producers owned the white guys with guitars criticism with that medley.

And then there was Brian. I crushed on Brian from the very start. I almost considered not watching anymore when he left. I would dislike Ryan anyway (I do not like hypocrites – get out of the damn closet already, you are not fooling anyone) but the fact that he remained and Brian left was devastating to me. But his bit on the finale was a perfect bookend, I thought: it was funny and humble and he was as hot as he was back in the day.

And then there was that result. I do think La’Porsha is talented, and maybe more so than Trent but I am very glad she did not win because of the way she was treated during the season. The way the judges gushed over her annoyed me. I have always been that way, though: if anyone is getting preferential treatment, I automatically am against him or her. I am sure there are deep-seated psychological reasons for this (like maybe the fact that I have NEVER gotten preferential treatment? OK, maybe not so deep-seated after all!).

But Idol is done. “For now.” What the fuck does that mean, Seacrest? Way to end a show, shithead. Don’t you know how annoying that is for people with addictive personalities? Will Idol come back? Will I obsess over it? Watch this space.

I Dream of Ginger

I have long been fascinated by dreams and dreaming (the kind you do when you are asleep, not the ones involving winning the lottery or getting married or living in Anderson Cooper’s laundry basket (that last one might just be me, though)). I’ve taken classes on dream analysis; I have four dreamer's dictionaries on my night stand; I used to keep a dream diary; and I’ve watched countless TV documentaries on the subject. (I think it is pretty obvious that I am enamored of dreams because my waking life is so downright uneventful and on the whole pretty sad - I’ve been slim in dreams; I’ve been loved; Sammy can go outside.)

But recently, I’ve had dreams in which particular words have stood out. The dreams have not been about that word per se, it has just made its presence known. And then I formed the notion (and I do not know if it was when I was awake or asleep) that these words were the names of horses taking part in horseraces. One morning after such a dream I went online to see if I could find a listing of horseraces taking place that day but I got distracted by a video of a cat, and never got around to looking up horse stuff.

That was until this weekend. I cannot remember anything about the dream itself, just that the word ginger was important somehow. I already had plans to go to the Champagne brunch at the casino next door as an Easter treat, so I decided to stop in the sports book while I was there. OK, so, wow, there are lots of horseraces in America! There were about 20 lists of races! No way was I going to read through all of them so I decided to pick three. I chose Golden Gate Fields (because gold is a color, like ginger is); then Hawthorne Race Course (because Hawthorne is a plant, like ginger is) and Penn National because I used to live in Pennsylvania. That one was the last one I chose but the first one I read. This is the listing for the seventh race:

O. M. G.

This is the result of that race:

Holy eff, right?

I bet $5 to win. A co-worker looked up the odds or the numbers or the form or whatever it is and calculated I’ll probably get about $23 back.  (I don’t plan to go cash in the ticket until after this post is published, because I want to get it in before the end of March - I’ll let you know if it is any more than that.) Not enough to retire on or employ my own chauffeur, and I lost more than that at the Blackjack table after the buffet, but still, how flipping cool is that?

And kind of scary too, right? Because, well, cue, Twilight Zone music, I dreamed of ginger and a horse named Gingers Hero won. Is this not freaking you out? Because it is freaking me out big time.

Bonus Day, but not a Bonus Post...

I am literally only writing this post because, as I mentioned before, I do not want there ever to be a month without at least one posting. But I really can’t think of anything to write about, nothing good or bad – but I guess I will take having nothing to write about over having something bad to write about any day.

 

But there has got to be something… Oh! There was that horrid Superbowl (the Steelers have six rings, by the way). And I did my taxes and am getting back a pretty hefty hunk of change, which is nice, way more than I expected. And Idol’s back.  I might write about that occasionally, especially as this is the last season. My early prediction is Dalton for the win, but I guess the smart money would be on the chick with the pile-of-dog-poop hair. What else? Oh, as I mentioned on Facebook, I found out that some of the people with whom I work are Republican, but better Republican co-workers than no co-workers at all.

 

That really is all my February produced. Further proof that it is impossible to die of boredom.

One down, ten thousand and eight to go…

So I replaced the first of the many items I sold during my unemployment: a dining table.  Isn’t it sexy? A neighbor was selling it. He wanted $60, I got it for $55 and he delivered it too. So once I re-acquire two dressers, a big screen TV, a Crock Pot, a wok, an electric griddle, a blender, and a Magic Bullet (some of the tangible victims of my long term unemployment) I will be back to square one. Those items and $10,000, that is.

 

Yep, I finally did the math and I now have exactly ten grand less than I did this time two years ago (two years ago today, in fact), when I was laid off. I guess considering all I went through, ten grand really isn’t all that much. It could have been a lot worse, and I should be thankful that I had ten grand to lose. Except I didn’t, really. Because that was my retirement savings.

 

“Welcome to Walmart, how can I help you today?” 

 

 

Year in Review – 2015 Edition

Despite finally learning to accept the fact that I might never know why my first Year In Review post is so popular, I still feel pressure to produce a great edition, so here goes my 2015 effort:

It’s been a strange year, to say the least. It started off on a hopeful note, with a new, full time job. But it quickly went downhill when I was once again out of work. Then two part-time positions followed; one crappy, which I voluntarily quit to take on a better one, which I then lost, making it the fourth job I lost in a 16-month period. Then - oh miracle of miracles! - my current position comes along. What did I do to deserve such a wonderful job? Oh yeah, that’s right – I suffered through the worst (I hope, anyway) 18 months of my life. It is not ideal but oh how I love it, for many, many reasons, not the least of which is it was directly responsible for one of the best nights of my life.

It was in early December. There were some Facebook posts concerning it, but nothing on this forum. And I am not going to go into too much detail here (it really is best told verbally) but it revolved around a Strip-based company event. My partner in crime was a co-worker, whose drop-dead gorgeousness literally opened doors or, rather, got velvet ropes lifted! We paid for only one drink all night, our first. At least eight others followed for me (that’s the ones I remember). There was a lot of my saying “She’s got a boyfriend” to guys inquiring about her; and me asking the one guy who didn’t but instead actually talked to me if he was part of a hogging event. And telling him that if he was, he’d definitely win with me.

And whilst it will literally go down as one of the top ten best nights of my life, what makes it even more remarkable is the fact that it was followed by four days of my not drinking any alcohol. I will pause a minute to let that sink in. Yes, for the first time since maybe the age of 16, I voluntarily did not drink for four whole days (I am surprised Franzia did not declare bankruptcy). It was only after a 7-Eleven Big Bite (onions, relish and ketchup) and a Big Gulp (Pepsi) did I finally feel in the mood to imbibe again (those Big Bites – kill or cure as far as I am concerned). I mean, I have gone longer not drinking (way longer), but not on a voluntary basis. And as a matter of fact, there are two nights a year when I purposely do not hit the hooch - January 1 and December 30. Because I always plan to get smashed the following days (birthday and New Year’s Eve) and so I want to give my body a break, to recalibrate, and prep for the onslaught (I drink especially heavy on those two nights).  

What else?

·                 Still no sex (that is three and a half years now).

·                 Saw five movies in the movie theater – the most I have seen in one year since I moved to Las Vegas.
·                 Lost six pounds.
·                 Spent 14 hours away from Sammy, the longest I have ever been away from him; he didn’t care, though, because that was the week JTV was visiting so he had someone around to bite (all human flesh is the same to him).
·                 Left the Las Vegas city limits for the first time since I moved here eight years ago; yeah, it was only 33 miles away and I was gone for less than 10 hours but still.

So, all in all, not the worst year of my life (2014 still holds (and I hope will hold forever) that title), but not the best either (don’t really have a contender for that title; maybe 2009 when I met Sammy) but not bad at all. Hope your 2015 was great and your 2016 will be even better!

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?